


Through The Eastern Gate

by SoftlySweptAway



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 3rd person pov, M/M, Magic, Memory Loss, fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 146,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftlySweptAway/pseuds/SoftlySweptAway
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself lost in a thick wood with no memory of who he is or where he came from. All he can remember is his own name. Lost and confused, he stumbles upon a crumbling chateau that is home to a serpent in a garden and a man who only appears night. Searching for answers and determined to break the strange spell cast over the manor, Aziraphale will have to step through the eastern gate to find his way home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A long fic I've been working on for a while. This fic is heavily inspired by the Eros and Psyche myth and the Beauty and the Beast fairytale. I was also heavily inspired by Traincat's "The Spider Prince and the Morning Star" spideytorch fic. Her fic changed my life, give it a read if you can.

Aziraphale found himself in a dense thicket of trees, not with a small amount of panic. He looked around him in a daze, trying to sort his muddled thoughts into some semblance of order. Questions like; ‘Now hang on, how did I get here?’ or ‘And where did I come from?’ sprang forth but no matter how Aziraphale tried, he simply could not come up with any answers.

Aziraphale began to feel his heart quicken and breath stutter as he wracked his brain. His panicked breaths blew out cool clouds of mist into the early spring air. The cold earth beneath his dark brown boots crunched as he paced the forest floor, offering him neither solution nor comfort.

The more Aziraphale thought the more questions than answers came to mind. Now that he thought about it, not only was he unsure of where he came from, or why, he also realized he did not have the slightest idea of who he might be. And now that he thought about it, he realized he could not remember anything at all. Nothing that preceded this very moment, at least. 

Where did he come from? Why was he alone in these woods? Was someone missing him right now? Did he have any family? Friends? What happened yesterday, or the day before that? Was there not one memory in his brain that he could hope to recall? And most importantly of all, if he even had such memories, why could he not remember them? 

The quickness of his thoughts were very troubling for poor Aziraphale and he found himself flustered with anxiety. The more he tried to concentrate on any one memory, the quicker they fluttered away from him. 

It was almost as if his memories were clouded within a fog, not unlike the same fog which surrounded him in these quiet cool woods. His memory seemed to blur around the edges, fading away from his concentration. It was like trying to cup water within your hands, only to watch in dismay as it fell between your fingertips. 

It was after a while of fruitless anxiety that Aziraphale realized that his attempts at trying to regain his memory were exactly that, fruitless. He then took deep calming breaths to steady himself.

“Now Aziraphale don’t panic, it won’t help to panic,” he whispered to himself. And suddenly he realized something. He knew his own name. 

Now Aziraphale couldn’t fathom why he knew only his name and nothing else, but he did find some comfort in knowing at least that. With this small piece of information, Aziraphale was able to center himself a bit. After some time, his heartbeat slowed and his panic subsided to a much more manageable level. Calmer than he was before, he decided that he could do with getting himself out of these woods, at the very least. Yes, that seemed to be a sensible idea.

“Perhaps I could, get help?” Aziraphale thought to himself out loud. “Yes, that’s an idea, get out of these woods and find some help.” He nodded to himself. “Right, I’ll just be going then?” He wondered out loud. 

Looking around him Aziraphale realized the thicket of woods was quite dense. “Now how will I-” he thought to himself and no sooner had he thought that, did the foliage around him seem to almost miraculously clear. Where before there was a thick underbrush, there was now a fine dirt path.

Aziraphale stared at the new addition of the woods for a few long moments in disbelief. He couldn’t recall anything at all but he couldn’t help but get the sense that paths appearing out of nowhere was not normal.

At a loss of what to do, Aziraphale decided the only thing he could do was follow the path before him. Tentatively, Aziraphale set off down the road. The woods around him were eerie and silent save for the faint rustling of branches above. The ground beneath his boots was dusted with a faint layer of snow. He walked on and on for what felt like miles. The path before him twisted and curved beyond his sight. It seemed to stretch on for an eternity. 

Aziraphale wandered, as if in a dream. Time seemed to slow all around him. The canopy above blurred and swayed with the wind. Aziraphale shuddered under his white cloak, drawing the fabric closer to his body. He hoped he would find his way out soon.

After some time of wandering, just as Aziraphale could truly feel himself at his wits end, the path began to widen. Seeing this, he quickened his pace, the path widening the further he strode. It seemed as if the woods around him were shrinking and thinning. The fine dirt path beneath his feet turned to a sturdy cobble. His boots thumped amongst the stone as he hurried along just short of running. 

The cloudy mist around him began to thin and sunlight began to break through the canopy. At the end of the cobbled path Aziraphale could make out a wide opening of light finally leading out of the forest. With a giddy sense of eagerness, Aziraphale burst out of the woods through the mouth of forest. Aziraphale squinted in the light, blinking his eyes rapidly to adjust his sight. Slowly, his vision came back into focus. 

There in front of him, in the early morning light far into the distance, was an ancient crumbling chateau.

Aziraphale looked on in amazement. He gazed around on the miles of frozen grounds before him, and the miles he still had to go. But now there was hope! Perhaps someone still lived there? Someone who might help him find his way home. 

With renowned vigor Aziraphale continued to follow the cobble path before him towards chateau proper. The grounds around him were barren save for some bushes and foliage that once might have been tasteful groundwork once upon a time. As of now they were wild and overgrown. Aziraphale tutted at their state, now a bit anxious once more. Did somebody even still live here? What if the area was entirely abandoned? What would he do then?

Aziraphale shook his head to do away with such negative thoughts. Inhabited or not, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He hurried along the path, the chateau coming closer and closer within sight until finally he could make out a large entryway as he followed the path around a bend. There before him was a towering cast iron gate nearly completely overgrown with ivy. The swirls and spikes of the metal were nearly entirely overtaken by greenery save for a small section near the very top. The early morning sunlight cast a warm glow over the gate, breaking through the last of the early morning fog. It stood bright and imposing above him.

Aziraphale looked on with dismay however as he saw the gate itself was firmly shut. Approaching it more closely, Aziraphale could see it firmly closed, the foliage twisting around and between where both of the iron doors come together. 

Seeing this, Aziraphale could feel tears of frustration well up in his eyes. He had come so far, only to find himself thwarted at the last moment. He screwed his eyes shut as the reality of his situation began to sink in. Of course no one was home, the grounds were an overgrown mess. Why would there be anyone living inside this old building who could help him? He was a fool for thinking otherwise. 

Now directly beneath the gate, Aziraphale balled one of his hands together into a tight fist and banged it against the metal and twisted ivy in frustration. He sniffed trying to stave off tears. 

Suddenly, he heard the loud creaking groan of metal.

Blinking through his tears, startled, Aziraphale looked up to witness the towering cast iron gate slowly open before him. The ivy that had twisted around it seemed to be receding before his very eyes revealing more metal than green. He watched it slowly open for him, stunned. Aziraphale stared at the open entryway for a moment amazed by his luck. First a path appearing out of nowhere and now a gate opens on its own. Aziraphale could not recall anything but today but this one was turning out to be much stranger than he expected.

The chateau was beautiful despite its sorry state of disrepair. The morning light gleamed off its stone surface and navy roof tiles. Large spires of towers broke through the sky above. A whole side of the building was covered in the same ivy that covered the gates. The building had dozens of windows, many broken with shutters hanging off of its hinges. One even had a large balcony half collapsed to the courtyard below.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of sorrow seeing this beautiful building in such a decrepit state. Such a beautiful mark of history destroyed by neglect and the ravages of time. 

After looking his fill of the building, Aziraphale walked through the open gates and into the courtyard proper. The courtyard, much like the building itself, was in a similar state of disrepair. The tiles of stone beneath Aziraphale’s feet were broken with gaps in between. The courtyard itself was split by a large moldering fountain in the center proper. It was crumbling and green with disuse. It had three tiers, each one looking almost like a flower that had opened to the light. 

At the very top of the fountain, where water had once came forth, was a figure of an angel. His wings were outstretched while he held a sword close to his chest. Sadly one of his wings was cracked and broken. As Aziraphale glanced into the fountain itself, he found the broken wing crumbled at the bottom of the lower basin. The sight filled him with a strange sense of sadness. He averted his eyes from it and made his way to the entryway proper. 

The main entrance of the chateau was a towering dark oak door with a silver knocker dark with grime and age. Tentatively, Aziraphale rapped the knocker against the dark wood thrice. 

“Hello!” He called. “Is anybody home?”

He waited a while before knocking again. “Is anyone here?” 

Still he received no answer.

Aziraphale huffed in frustration. “Perhaps I could?” He said to himself trying the door handle. Surprisingly, the door opens easily from his hand, swinging wide open. 

Aziraphale stepped into the entryway. There greeting Aziraphale as he stepped inside was perhaps one of the more stranger sights he had seen yet. Right beneath a large sprawling staircase that split on both sides of the foyer was a large statue of two angels wrestling. One had the other pinned to the ground beneath his wings as the other struggled to get back up again. What struck Aziraphale the most however was that, unlike the rest of the chateau, the statue seemed to be one of the only things not affected by time or neglect. On the contrary, it looked to be in perfect condition.

Aziraphale studied the statue in complete bewilderment as he came to that realization. A renowned sense of hope filled his chest. If the statue was kept in such good condition, the rest of the property aside, then surely-

“Hello!” He called again this time more loudly and with more conviction. “Is anyone here, my name is Aziraphale and um, I might be in need of some assistance!”

His voice echoed throughout the stone walls but no matter he strained his ears, Aziraphale received no answer. A bit put out but not deterred, Aziraphael ascended the staircase with a renowned sense of vigor. Someone might very well be living in this mansion and if they were, Aziraphale intended to find them!

Aziraphale wandered throughout the halls of the manor, keeping an eye out for any signs of life. The large billowing red and gold curtains around large ornate windows grey with grime. Many of the curtains were worn thin with age and light damage. Some fluttered in the wind that passed through the broken parts of glass that Aziraphale had seen from the outside. He wandered through the hallway, peeking into rooms as he went. Many were sitting rooms or old parlor rooms with tattered wallpaper and moldy old cushions. Nevertheless Aziraphale carefully inspected each one.  
Every now and again he would call out, hoping that someone would hear him. It was only until Aziraphale stumbled upon what seemed to be the manor’s main living room did Aziraphale find signs of life. It was a wide room with two cozy looking armchairs and a sprawling victorian style sofa. What intrigued Aziraphale as he moved closer to inspect them was that unlike the furniture in the rooms he had passed previously, the furniture did not look moldy and destroyed. The sofa itself seemed to have a bit of a dent in it, not unlike the shape of a person draping themselves over it.

Aziraphale’s heart pounded in delight at the through. He looked around him wildly and saw even more signs of use. Atop a black onyx coffee table with gold trimming in front of the sofa sat a large golden candelabra. The candles held in it looked used, it’s red candles burnt down with dripping wax. Near the candelabra was a gramophone with a stack of records next to it. Aziraphale picked up one such record housed in a sleeve that read, the Velvet Underground with a picture of a banana on the cover of all things.

Now Aziraphale didn’t very much know what a ‘Velvet Underground’ was seeing the stack of records that appeared to be used made his heart pound with joy. Upon further inspection of the room he could see a large stack of firewood beside the fireplace across the room with mound of ash inside of it. 

“Is anybody here?” He called again, hoping beyond hope that someone was nearby to listen.  


When no answer came forth Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped. At least now he knew for a fact that there was someone living here and he wouldn’t be deterred from finding them. With that thought he straightened his shoulders and set out to explore more of the chateau. Some of the other hallways and rooms he came across were much the same as the previous, rooms once of opulent beauty now in ruin but not all of them were destroyed.

After a bit of wandering he came across what he believed to be the main kitchen area. The room had a wide hearth with a large black iron pot hanging over the ashes of a fire. Copper pots and pans hung from the walls, gleaming a healthy bronze. In the center of the room there was a wide wooden table with a white tablecloth over it, clean, with a beautiful vase of lilies at the center. 

“Hello?” He called out again. “Is there anyone here?” 

He didn’t receive an answer but paying closer attention to the room he did notice something, the door near the back of the kitchen had been left open. He hurried across the room and through the doorway leading back outside. As he stepped out into the morning light, Aziraphale saw the most beautiful garden that he could imagine.

The garden was a sea of color, the area not uniform but not overgrown either. As Aziraphale wandered through he could see many beds of flowers. Proud purple stalks of lilac stretching out towards the sun, beds of impatiens in a variety of colors, plots of lilies in pure white, pink, oranges and reds. There were bushes of roses lining the narrow cobble path that Aziraphale found himself following. Some roses were solid in color while others in a nearby plot seemed to be mixtures of red or white, the colors blending together in beautiful multicolor patterns. 

The sweet smell of the garden was absolutely divine, especially the roses. Aziraphale had just bent forward to take a long breath of one sweet smelling orange and red hybrid when he heard a rustling sound from behind him. Aziraphale quickly straightened and whirled around. Behind him one of the rose bushes shook as if someone was moving through them.

“Hello, is anybody there?” He called out, straightening his gold trimmed waistcoat nervously. “So sorry to intrude but I believe I am in need of assistance.” 

From the bushes Aziraphale heard a low hissing noise that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with alarm. The rose bush parted revealing a long dark intimidating beast. Aziraphale backed up in alarm as a colossal serpent parted through the brush. It's head and upper body was reared up, the length easily as tall as Aziraphale himself. Its scales were a shimmering black with a dark red underbelly . Aziraphale felt his heart pound in his chest as the serpent stalked towards him, its piercing yellow eyes never leaving his sight. It was as if Aziraphale stumbled upon the king of all serpents himself.

Aziraphale felt his heart pounding in his chest and his mouth run dry at the sight. He quickly moved backwards, trying to keep as much distance between himself and the beast as he could.

“So, so sorry,” he found himself babbling. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I’ll just leave you to um-” Aziraphale stuttered frantically in alarm.

The serpent hissed lowly again as Aziraphale tried desperately to think of a way to escape. He stepped backwards again to maintain some distance between himself and the beast and then, several things happened at once. 

Aziraphale stepped backwards into the plot of roses behind him and felt his foot catch onto the wooden edge of the flower bed. His knees crumpled both in panic and his own frantic attempt to retain his footing. Aziraphale felt his stomach drop as he felt himself freefall backwards. In that split second, in the corner of his eye he saw a black shape snap towards him. Aziraphale froze in terror as a large scaly mass wrapped around him. The cool powerful muscle of its body constricted tightly around his torso. 

Both Aziraphale and the beast fell backwards onto the earth. They fell through both brush and thorn and landed solidly again the ground. Aziraphale could feel the wind knocked out of him as they made impact. The serpent coiled itself around him more tightly, leaving Aziraphale hardly any room for breath. His chest was heaving in panic. He could feel his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He lay there on the ground stunned. He stayed as still as a statue as he felt the serpent around him undulate and shift around him.

The hissing sound grew louder and more pronounced as the head of the serpent drew closer to his ear. Aziraphale trembled at the sound. The snake shifted and coiled around him. He shivered in terror at the sensation of a cool thin tongue hissing at his ear. Of all ways that Aziraphale might have imagined his death if he ever cared to, eaten by a giant serpent was certainly not one of them.

The snake shifted again, coiling its neck around his shoulders until it’s head was uncomfortably close to his own. Aziraphale could feel his eyes begin to water in terror. He gazed transfixed by the serpents sharp yellow eyes gleaming with intelligence. No matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to look away.

Aziraphale and the beast stared at each other for a long moment. Just when Aziraphale was certain he would soon meet his end, the snake relaxed its grip. Aziraphale sat up stunned as the serpent ducked its head from his gaze and uncoiled itself from around him. It large lengthy body unwrapped itself and moved back onto the earth. With one last glance back at Aziraphale it sauntered away through the brush and deeper into the garden.

Aziraphale sat there in the dirt, stunned before eventually getting shakily back to his feet. His hands trembled as he wiped the dirt off of his body, looking with dismay as most of his white cloak was covered in dirt. Once he had recovered some of his wits he quickly fled the garden and stumbled his way back into the kitchen. He unsecured the clasp of his cloak and placed it on the rack next to the door in a daze. He staggered his way to the sink, rummaging through the cupboards next to it to retrieve a crystal glass. 

He grabbed the handle of the metal pump, shakily lifting it up and down until water sprang forth from the spout. The glass filled with clear water and Aziraphale took a long drink. He stood there in front of the sink, his mind blank with shock. Aziraphale might not have been able to remember his life before today, but he imagined that if he had this would be one of the more trying ones.

“Who keeps a mammoth of a serpent for a pet anyway?” He muttered angrily to himself as he took another sip of his water.

Whoever owned this chateau was shaping up to be quite the character, and Aziraphale hadn’t even met them yet! A crumbling home save for a few rooms, strange artwork, a sprawling garden, and a man eating pet. Aziraphale was inclined to have a few stern words with the owner whenever he might meet them!

At the thought of meeting the head of the house however, Aziraphale let out a tired breath. It wouldn’t do to get too upset. Aziraphale thought. Afterall he was a stranger intruding upon someone else’s home. And he supposed that snake hadn’t eaten him after all, although they certainly seemed like they were thinking about it. 

“Perhaps I was too big to eat?” Aziraphale thought out loud with a shudder. 

The thought of being eaten alive was a sobering enough thought that Aziraphale quickly banished it away to the back of his mind. After finishing his glass of water and rinsing it out before leaving it on the drying rack, Aziraphale left the kitchen and wandered about the manor. He stumbled across many other rooms, crumbling bathrooms and adjoining suites, an old ballroom whose ornate arches had seen better days, and a living room with a long wide wooden table with dozens of chairs with tarps of white cloth hung over them. 

After some time of wandering Aziraphale was beginning to feel quite weary indeed. He had inspected many other rooms and still no sign of the owner. The chateau was a large complex but truly he didn’t expect it to take so long to find the person who lived here. Aziraphale sighed and came to a stop in front of two large double doors made of dark wood. “Maybe this one?” he wondered out loud as he cracked open one of the doors. 

As Aziraphale cracked open the door, he was greeted with perhaps the most welcoming sight of the day. Beyond the wooden double doors was a sprawling library. Mid-morning light filtered through elegant stain glass windows, casting the room into a variety of hues. Unlike much of the house the room remained untouched by the uncaring ravages of time. Instead the room seemed perfectly preserved if a bit touched with dust. 

Aziraphale examined the room with wonder, there were dozens of towering shelves filled with books. A spiral staircase led to an alcove above with other shelves of books and from what Aziraphale could see from below, two lounge chairs and a reading table. Much of the furniture in the library was made from a dark oak wood. There were some smaller chandeliers for lighting although Aziraphale felt that lighting any candles in the room with them would be a recipe for disaster.

Aziraphle inhaled the scent of the room, feeling an odd sense of peace wash over him. He took in the smell of dust and old parchment, and the soft colorful light from the stain glass windows and for the first time today, felt at home. Mesmerized, Aziraphale wandered the library, touching the colorful spines lined amongst the shelves with his fingertips with reverence. Scanning the titles on the shelves the books seemed to be organized haphazardly, neither put together by publishing date nor theme. Carefully, he plucked a book off of the nearest shelf and cracked it open. Upon reading the first few pages Aziraphale discovered he was holding a first edition of J.R.R Tolkein’s “The Hobbit” in his hands. 

Placing the book back on the shelf Aziraphale began carefully scanning the rest of the collection of books and to his surprise found that many were carefully preserved first or second editions of classic books. Discovering this, Aziraphale examined the library’s collection with delight. He began paging through works like Tolkein but quickly found himself putting those down and discovering others like Lord Byron or Virginia Woolf. He scanned pages of each tomb before greedily moving onto others such as Agatha Christie, Maya Angelou, and James Joyce. 

The more he thumbed through the pages of revered classics the more at ease Aziraphale felt. He assembled a pile of books he plucked at random and made his way up the spiral staircase to the quiet reading nook above. He settled into one of the twin leather armchairs and settled his pile on the end table there and immersed himself within thick dusty pages of paper and parchment. He would endeavor to find the owner of the manor later, there was no harm in taking a break for now.

Before Aziraphale knew it he was completely immersed in a world of his own. A world made entirely of ink and paper. He had read the entire first chapter of Joyce’s “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” before restlessly placing it down and scanning through an older edition of Shakespear’s “Hamlet.” Time up in the alcove became a fluid thing as Aziraphale lost himself in book after book. Never truly committing to one but loving each of them just as fiercely as the last.

It was only after Aziraphale had lost himself in the confrontation between Victor Frankenstein and his monstrous creation, “I ought to be thy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed,” that Aziraphale realized that time had gotten away from him.

He looked up, struck by the realization that hours had passed. The stained glass windows of the alcove shone a golden, more faded light into his little alcove. He blinked trying to focus his eyes and placed Shelly’s work back onto the table beside him. He sat up from his comfortable position in the leather armchair, his back popping after placed in the same position for so long. 

His stomach growled at him and he patted his stomach idly. Perhaps the master of the house wouldn’t mind if he helped himself to some food? He glanced at his pile of books on the end table and decided to leave them there for now. He could always put them away later.

Aziraphale left the library and made his way back to the kitchen in a thoroughly better mood than before. For a manor in such disarray the master of the chateau certainly knew how to properly take care of his books. Aziraphale supposed if one person could only maintain so many rooms in the household, that would be the one to preserve.

Aziraphale entered the kitchen and immediately noticed that something was different. The back door leading to the garden had been closed. Aziraphale in his haste to leave had completely forgotten to close it behind him. Had the master of the house close it after Aziraphale had left? Or, a nasty little thought in the back of Aziraphale’s mind whispered, did the serpent from the garden enter the room before they could?

Aziraphale shuddered at the thought glancing around the room uneasily. When no giant serpent had made themselves known he shook his head. 

“I’m being ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. 

He set himself to searching the cabinets for any food. He opened a pair above the sink, finding them empty. Aziraphale frowned and opened a few other cabinets, all of them empty. Aziraphale checked the rest of drawers and cabinets in the room, no cutlery nor food to be found. Uneasy, Aziraphale checked the ice box near the sink and only found a couple bottles of chilled wine. 

“What sort of person doesn’t put any food in the ice box?” he muttered to himself closing it shut.

Aziraphale examined the larder near the entrance of the room. It was large, spacious and entirely barren save for an entire wall that was dedicated to rows upon rows of wine. Quite the collection too, he found examining the vintages. However wine wouldn’t do much to quell his restless stomach so he closed the door shut in a huff. Well whoever this mystery owner was they certainly loved their drink. 

“A kitchen with no food and a manor without an owner, well!” Aziraphale scoffed. He moved towards the sink once more, filling the same glass from earlier with water from the pump. “No tea, no biscuits, not even a morsel of bread.” He muttered angrily.

Who was this mystery owner anyway? Did they exist entirely on bottles of wine and strolls through the garden? What if they had company over? Like now for instance! Was the owner so inhospitable they couldn’t even offer a guest one cup of tea? Although now that Aziraphale thought about it, he was certain the owner of the chateau didn’t get much in the way of guests at all, what with nearly the entire building crumbling to ruin. 

Aziraphale seethed quietly to himself as he sipped his glass of water. Why he was so upset once he was done he put the empty glass in the sink and didn’t rinse it at all. Let the owner of the house clean up a bit. If Aziraphale didn’t know any better, he might say that they were avoiding him. With that thought in mind, Aziraphale frowned deeply. The chateau might be large but from what Aziraphale could see, the number of rooms actually lived in were quite small. The odds of the owner of the house being unaware of Aziraphale’s presence, seemed a bit unlikely.

With that new thought to ponder the sun had truly begun to set. Deep golden light filtered into the kitchen, illuminating Aziraphale alone with his thoughts. Aziraphale sighed to himself and set out to find himself a place to settle down for the night. This mysterious owner might dislike company, but Aziraphale was here to stay the night at least, whether they liked it or not. 

Aziraphale set out to find a spare bedroom that was at least somewhat liveable. He didn’t have to search long. Past a sunroom with many types of vibrant plants and was a spacious bedroom. The room was dimly lit, all of the light from the room shining in from the dimming light from the hallway proper. Inside there was a large canopy bed with drapes and sheets the color of dark red velvet. Across the room there was also an ornate fireplace with an armchair and an animal skin rug. Aziraphale stepped inside tentatively. The room looked cozy but Aziraphale did have a thought.

“Not occupied? I hope,” he whispered to himself.

Despite being a terrible host, Aziraphale didn’t want to step on any toes and accidently claim the owner’s private bedroom for himself. Aziraphale studied the room to see if there were any signs that it was lived in. He peeked into the wardrobe next to the bed and found it to be entirely empty. Upon examining the fireplace, there was no pile of firewood stacked beside it like the one he found in the living room. 

Aziraphale poked around some more. The candelabras on the side of the walls were empty of any candles and looking into the ensuite bathroom, found there to be no personal effects their either. There was no soap or other toiletries that suggested the room had been used, at least not recently. 

With that in mind Aziraphale began to relax, the weariness of the day finally catching up to him. He toed off his shoes by the side of the bed and carefully unbuttoned his waist coat, folding it neatly and placing it on top of the chair by the fireplace. He kept his shirt and pants on, sighing at the lack of anything else to wear. Tomorrow he’d search the house for any spare clothes. Hopefully there would be some tucked away in some other rooms that hadn’t been left to rot. 

Aziraphale pulled back the sheets of the bed and gingerly laid down within the covers. The sheets on top of him provided a comforting weight. He lay there in silence for some time. His eyes felt heavy from the weight of the day. His breathing evened out and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the middle of the night when Aziraphale woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. The bed groaned and shifted on the other side of the mattress. Aziraphale could feel it dip under the weight of another person as they settled in. 

Aziraphale lay on his side of the bed, his body numb with terror. The room was pitch black, the darkness encompassing him, making it impossible for him to see. Was this the mysterious owner of the house? Did Aziraphale manage to stumble into their bedroom by mistake? Did the owner of the house even know he was laying in their bed? Who doesn’t keep any clothing in their wardrobe anyway?! 

‘The same type of person who keeps no food in their kitchen,’ Aziraphale thought miserably to himself. ,

Now Aziraphale was in a predicament. Should he say nothing and hope the owner simply didn’t notice a stranger occupying the other side of their bed? Or, should he come clean and apologize for essentially barging into their home? 

Aziraphale’s mind raced as he inwardly argued between the two options laid out before him, but in his heart of hearts, he knew the true answer. He should come clean, apologize profusely and find himself another room to sleep in. The sofa in the living room looked comfortable enough, it would do in a pinch at least, and Aziraphale could make himself scarce the following morning. He had already intruded enough.

Just as Aziraphale was conjuring up exactly how to apologize to this mystery person, his stomach let out a traitorous grumble of discomfort. Aziraphale didn’t dare move. He held his breath, listening intently for any sound or movement from the person next to him. 

After a long pause Aziraphale felt the weight beside him shift once more. He couldn’t tell for sure but it felt like the person had shifted slightly closer towards him. Had they turned round to face him? Aziraphale felt like he would explode from the tension and all at once his anxiety burst out of him.

“I'm terribly sorry, truly I am,” He said. “I don’t mean to intrude, in your bedroom no less. See, I think I found this chateau and I found myself lost, and I thought to myself, well, I could use a bit of help! Lovely home you have here! Truly it’s um-” Aziraphale paused, thinking of the chateau's general state of decay. “Well the garden is just divine,” he continued. “And your library is exquisite, truly lovely place all around but see, I’m in a bit of a bind here. I seem to have um lost all of my memory and, well, I know that it’s a lot to ask, but I could use a bit of help.” 

He winced, waiting for anything. A cutting remark, a rightful blow, but none came. The room was silent once more, save for Aziraphale’s rapidly beating heart. The person lying next to Aziraphale said nothing, and then, he heard the bed shift once more. It felt like someone’s weight had shifted away from him. He heard the sheets rustle, and then, there was silence. 

‘Have they gone to sleep?’ Aziraphale thought wildly. 

Aziraphale waited a long while, but eventually he had to come to the conclusion that the person lying next to him was ignoring him. He laid down on his back, staring straight up into the darkness where the ceiling should be. He lay there for a long time, incredulous, and then, very angry. Here he was, asking for help! Barging into a strangers home, and this person had nothing to say to him! This whole entire day was just unbelievable to him. That did it. Aziraphale would just have to set off tomorrow and find someone else to help them. Whoever this mystery person was, they obviously had nothing to do with him.

“Good night then!” Aziraphale said into the darkness. He closed his eyes and a long time passed, before he too fell asleep.

***

Aziraphale woke up sometime in the late morning. He rolled over blearily in bed and rubbed his eyes. The space next to him was empty, but the sheets had been pulled back as if someone had climbed out. Aziraphale scoffed at the sight and sat up. He leaned over the side of the bed and placed his boots back on. Regardless of what their highness thought of him, he was leaving this mad house today!

As he dressed back into his waistcoat, his stomach grumbled once more. Aziraphale winced at the sound and sighed. That was just going to have to be a problem to be dealt with later. After getting dressed Aziraphale made his way out of the room. He’d collect his coat from the kitchen and be done with it all. He had quite enough of this place!

Aziraphale rounded into the kitchen and noticed three things at once. One, was that the door to the garden was open. Two, the table in the middle of the room was covered in a delectable spread of breakfast food. And three, the behemoth of a serpent was in the doorway, staring at him. 

Aziraphale froze in terror. The snake stared up at him from across the room, slowly rearing his head and upper body to make itself taller. It matched eye level with Aziraphale. Aziraphale didn’t move his gaze from the serpent’s golden eyes. He didn’t even blink. They stared each other down until finally, the snake tilted its head downwards and placed itself back onto the floor. Aziraphale watched it turn around and slither back out into the garden, until finally it was out of sight. 

Aziraphale stared the doorway for a moment and then glanced toward the kitchen table. The table was covered in plates of food. As Aziraphale drew closer, he could see that there were samples many different types of cheeses and sliced meats. 

There was a bowl of fruit in the center filled with apples, bananas, and strawberries. To the side there was a basket of rolls, muffins, croissants and sweet breads with small dishes of various colored jams and a tray of a large stick of butter. At the end of the table there was a large glass pitcher of orange juice. 

Aziraphale cast one more furtive glance at the door, but found no signs of a giant serpent lurking. He inhaled the scent of food, closing his eyes in pleasure. He grabbed a plate from one of the empty cabinets and filled it up with a little bit of everything from the spread.

The fruits were exquisite. The strawberries were perfectly ripe, not too soft or firm. They were sweet on his tongue when he bit into one. Aziraphale sampled some of the savory meats. There was ham, sausage, and salami, all in thin slices. He tried the buttered rolls next, and then some of the sweet rolls. He watered it all down with two full glasses of orange juice, the juice crisp and pleasantly tart. 

Azirapahale ate until his stomach was pleasantly full. He wasn’t sure where any of this food came from, but at this point he wasn’t sure he cared. The mystery owner might have been a little rude and strange, but obviously they weren’t as bad as he thought. After eating his fill, which was quite a bit, there was still a lot of food leftover. Azirapahale looked at the remaining food on the kitchen table and set out putting it away. There was no sense in letting it go to waste.

He found some cloth hiding away in a cabinet and wrapped the bread in it. He wasn’t able to find any containers for the meat, so he placed the plates with them back in the icebox, along with the pitcher of orange juice. He left the basket of fruit out on the table, aside for the strawberries, which he put on a spare plate and stored them in the icebox with the others.

Before long, the table was clear and tidy. He rinsed the used dishes in the sink, frowning at the lack of soap. He sighed, and tried not to question it. Once he was done he nodded to himself, and fetched his cloak from the coat rack. He had already wrapped a spare cloth with some sweet bread and an apple. With all of his belongings together, he left the kitchen and set off for the front entrance. 

Aziraphale figured he had imposed on the master of the house for long enough. It was time to hit the road and find someone who could help him. A doctor perhaps. The manor might be secluded, but civilization couldn’t be too far away. There might even be a town nearby. Regardless, there must be someone who could help him recover his lost memories. One thing Aziraphale would miss, however, was the beautiful library. That was one thing he would regret leaving behind. But this wasn’t his home, and it wasn’t his place to intrude any longer. 

Aziraphale passed the strange sculpture of two angels wrestling on his way back out the front door. The gate of the front entrance was wide open, the rising sun shining beyond it. It was time to be moving along.

Azirapahale walked through the open gate and set off further away from the manor. The sun was shining, and it was turning out to be another beautiful spring morning. Why, before long, he might not even need his cloak to remain warm. 

Aziraphale walked through the grounds for a bit before he noticed something a bit odd. There seemed to be a bit of fog near the forest where he came from. He walked parallel to the forest with a frown. Maybe the moisture from the trees kept the sun from reaching through? 

Aziraphale cast the thought from his mind and continued away from the manor. The further away he got from the building, however, the closer the fog seemed to come. Aziraphale frowned as he diverted a bit, inching away from the fog, but despite his efforts, it seemed to roll closer to him. He hastened his steps but before he knew it, the fog was upon him. Within moments the morning sun was blotted out, and Aziraphale was surrounded by cloudy mist.

Aziraphale could scarcely see more than a few feet in front of him. He turned backward behind him but the results were the same. He was entirely enveloped. Trying not to panic, Aziraphale continued forward on his path, his heart thumping in his chest. What sort of fog was this? Some sort of weather phenomenon? 

Aziraphale walked and walked for what felt like ages before he saw light once more. He eagerly chased it, happy to be rid of the fog. The closer he got, the clearer the path before him became. Aziraphale exited the fog and stared at the scene in front of him, aghast. In front of him was the same cast iron gate with the chateau beyond it.

He turned around him as if the receding fog would offer him any answers. He was back to where he had started! With an annoyed huff, Aziraphale set off once more, this time in the opposite direction. Perhaps a town was in the other direction! Regardless, he didn’t want to get lost once more. Same as before, just as it appeared he was leaving the grounds proper, the fog from the forest rolled in. He broke into a run in an attempt to avoid it but it came to him all the same. Just as before, he found himself back to where he started.

Aziraphale stared at the gate again in disbelief. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. How could he ever to leave and find help if he couldn’t find his way away from the manor?! Aziraphale forced himself to calm down and began to think. He seemed to get turned around when the fog rolled in and accidentally circle around from where he came from. It was the only logical explanation. Well, if that happened, he’d just have to try to set off in one clear direction.

Aziraphale turned behind him and looked at the forest behind him with a critical eye. He’d just have to try and go towards the direction he originally came from. There was nothing else for it. Obviously by trying to avoid the fog, he was getting turned around. With that in mind he headed towards the forest, in one clear direct path. 

The fog rolled towards him even faster as he approached the forest, but he paid it no mind. He was careful to place one foot in front of the other and pace himself in a perfect straight line so as not to double back. It was after some time of wandering in the fog did it break once more. He stepped through eagerly into the light, and came back to the same exact sight as before. Aziraphale stared dumbly at the sight of the open gate. This was impossible! It made no logical sense! 

Aziraphale turned around to stare at the forest again with a careful eye. The fog lingered near it. He looked back towards the open gate towering above him. Slowly, he entered the gate and back through the courtyard. He passed by the fountain and the two angels struggling in the entryway. He walked through the moldering hallways in a daze, past the kitchen and further into the manor. It was only after he found his way back to the library did his shoulders begin to shake. He climbed the spiraling staircase into his reading nook, his legs shaking with effort. It was only after he collapsed into the armchair, did he bury his head in his hands and began to cry.

***

After some time noon approached, and Aziraphale began to stir from his seat in the library. His mind raced with possibilities, but so far only really one thing was clear. He couldn’t leave the mansion. At least he couldn’t get any further than the grounds. It didn’t make any logical sense but everything that had happened to Aziraphale lately, everything that he could remember at least, seemed to be filled with the impossible. Paths appeared out of nowhere. Doors opened on their own. Cabinets empty of food revealed a breakfast buffet the next day. There was a giant serpent living in the garden, and Aziraphale couldn’t leave the manor. The only thing that made sense was that nothing did.

Aziraphale steepled his hands under his chin, deep in thought. The only person he thought could help him now was the owner of the mansion, and they hadn’t even met face to face. Aziraphale thought of wandering the chateau again to try and find them, but dismissed it. They certainly liked to make themselves scarce. But, there was one place he knew they’d be.

Aziraphale got up from the chair and looked at the stain glass window in front of him. The midday light shined through, casting an array of blue and red into the room. He’d go back to the master bedroom tonight. Uninvited or not, he’d wait as long as it took and finally get some answers. With that in mind, Azirapale gathered the books from the day before and went back down the spiral staircase. He placed them all back where he found them the day before.

Some time in the afternoon Aziraphale found himself in the kitchen eating the lunch he made for himself earlier. The back door to the garden was shut this time, to his relief. He tried to occupy his time afterwards by leafing through new books in the library for the rest of the day, but it was a fruitless endeavor. His mind was firmly elsewhere. He stripped off his rumpled clothing, folding them carefully. He would have to wash them before long. 

He climbed into the bed, placing the soft comforter and velvet top layer above him and settled in. He sat upright against the headboard with two propped up pillows behind him and waited. Aziraphale waited for some time. The sun from the hallway slowly began to set, casting long shadows into the room. Eventually, the room darkened, and it became very difficult to see. Aziraphale made a mental note to scrounge around the house for spare candles to light the room better, before casting it from his mind. With any luck he wouldn’t have to step foot in this bedroom ever again.

As time drew on and the light grew even more scarce, Aziraphale squirmed in place. The bed was quite soft. The heavy blankets over him were a comforting weight. His eyes grew heavy but he shook it off. 

“Ridiculous,” Aziraphale muttered to himself. 

Truly he hadn’t even been that tired a short while ago but it seemed as the shadows grew near, so did sleep. He tried sitting up and shifting around in bed. At one point he even threw the covers off of him to stay awake, but it was no use. Against his will, it became harder and harder to stay awake. Eventually, his mind grew hazy and his eyes closed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes for just a few moments.

By the time Aziraphale woke up, the room was pitch black, and there was someone else settling into the other side of the bed. He sat up from where he was half slumped against the propped pillows, wincing at the strain in his neck. Aziraphale cursed himself for falling asleep. 

“So sorry to bother you again,” Aziraphale started. 

The person to his side seemed to pause before shuffling the blankets around once more. Aziraphale waited patiently before they settled. He could see nothing in the darkness, but he still felt like they were looking his way.

“I know I’m being terribly rude, staying in your bed again. I promise it won’t happen again,” He said. “It’s just that we seem to be just missing each other during the day is all,” he said pointedly. 

The person next to him shifted slightly. Out of guilt, Aziraphale wondered? 

“Anyway, I tried to leave the manor this morning and-”

Aziraphale paused after hearing a sharp intake of breath. The sound was sharp and sudden. Aziraphale stared into the darkness next to him. As if that would help him make out their face.

“And you know something about this already, don’t you?” He asked quietly.

The silence this time seemed more pointed than before.

“I tried to leave the manor this morning,” Aziraphale repeated. “And for some reason it appears I am unable to do so. Any idea why that might be?”  


The person next to him remained as silent as ever.

“Why do I get the feeling that you know something I don’t?” Aziraphale said, with a touch of frustration. 

The person next to him said nothing,. The bed shifted again, the weight of it shifting away from him.

“Oh no you don’t!” Aziraphale said, suddenly furious. “Going to sleep won’t save you from this. Why won’t you tell me what you know?” 

The silence was almost deafening. Aziraphale blinked back tears as the person next to him refused to answer.

“Why won’t you say anything?” Aziraphale asked miserably. “Can’t you say anything at all?”

Azirapahle hung his head and clenched the sheets in frustration. There was silence between the two of them Just near endless silence and a darkness that he couldn’t hope to see past. He blinked back tears, trying to keep his composure together, when the best shifted once more. All of a sudden, he felt a large warm hand covering his own. He startled at the touch, whipping his head towards the person next to him. They said nothing, only squeezing his shaking first in comfort. Then it hit him, like a lightning bolt.

“Can you-” Aziraphale stuttered licking his lips, “can you not talk?”

The hand covering his squeezed once more. 

“Oh,” He said, startled at the realization. “Oh, well, I apologize then. Truly! I was being terribly rude.” He said, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

Aziraphale calmed himself down and quieted. He thought for a few long moments, before coming to another realization.

“So, if I can’t leave the manor, is it possible that you are stuck here as well?”

Than hand on top of his own squeezed once more in affirmation. Aziraphale’s mind raced at the admission. 

“And you know why that is, don’t you?” Aziraphale asked.

Another squeeze in affirmation.

“And, you can’t exactly tell me yourself.” Aziraphale said, dejected. Then he had another idea.

“I know, you can just write me a note!” He said happily. “Why I’m sure there’s some pen and paper around the house. Why you can write it all down tomorrow and we can sort this out together, what do you say?” 

At this, the hand was removed from his own. Aziraphale felt the loss of its warmth keenly. 

“What’s the matter?” He asked. “Can you not tell me at all?” he wondered.

He was met with only a frustrated sigh. Aziraphale frowned in confusion as he felt the bed shift away from him again. Were they going to bed?

“Come now,” Aziraphale reasoned. “There’s no reason to be like that. I apologize if I offended you.”

Sadly once more he was met with silence. Aziraphale was beginning to become thoroughly sick of silence. 

“Well alright then. Be that way!”

Aziraphale settled into bed, placing the sheets around him. He turned away from his bedmate awkwardly, his mind already racing of thoughts of tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d scour the chateau and find a semi decent bedroom. Any would do at this point. Then he wouldn’t have to share a bed with his temperamental host. With that in mind he closed his eyes and willed sleep to come. 

Quicker than he thought it would, it did. Before he knew it, he was blinking awake. The door to the bedroom was open, and light was coming in from the hallway. Aziraphale sat up blearily and got dressed, same as the day before. He wrinkled his nose at the rumpled state of his clothes. Today he would scour mansion for clothes and a semi decent bedroom. 

Aziraphale dressed himself and went to the kitchen, his stomach already rumbling with hunger. Glancing at the sunlight outside, he reckoned it was already mid morning. 

Aziraphale ate more of the leftover spread from yesterday. The taste of the food was still exquisite even by the next day, but he also privately felt that it would be nice to try something new sometime soon. Still, beggars can't be choosers, and there was still plenty of food left. Maybe when he began to run low he’d mention it to the master of the house. Then he could whip up more food from, well, wherever the host was hiding it. As far as Aziraphale could tell, it was as if they had pulled it from thin air.

The door to the garden was open once more. The early morning breeze drifted through, sending in lovely smells of earth and the perfume of flowers into the kitchen. Aziraphale finished his breakfast while eyeing the open door. It was such a lovely day. He had spent so much of yesterday and the day before confined to the house. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick stroll in the garden. 

He glanced at the open door once more and thought of the serpent that might be lurking there. Then he thought of warm sunshine on his face and the beautiful colors of flowers. The seemingly endless sprawl of growth that Aziraphale scarcely got the chance to explore the last time he had ventured in it. 

With that in mind, Aziraphale felt himself fill up with a renewed sense of determination. He cleaned up the remains of his breakfast and tentatively ventured outside. It was another beautiful spring day. There were hardly any clouds in the sky, save for a few wispy thin layers floating overhead.

Aziraphale smiled, tilting his upwards into the sun. The warmth of the light felt comforting on his skin and he sighed, feeling a deep sense of peace wash over him. After some time he opened his eyes and followed the cobble path leading through the garden. He took care to keep an eye on the brush around him. Hopefully there would be no more surprise visits from one terrifying exotic pet in his immediate future.

Aziraphale traipsed around the garden proper, exploring whatever nook and cranny he could find. There were many more flower beds than he knew from his previous visits. There were beds filled with petunias, peony, morning glory and birds of paradise. There were bushes of hydrangeas bleeding colors or pink and blue along the path as well. There were even flowers that Aziraphael didn’t even recognize. He examined them all carefully, taking in their vibrant colors and lush greenery. There wasn’t a blemish on any of the flowers. Not a wilted leaf or petal in sight.

After some wandering Aziraphale stumbled across a large hedge maze sprawling through what he believed to be the center of the grounds. He spent some time getting lost in it. Literally. He got turned round a few times, coming across more than a few dead ends and rounding all too familiar corners. 

Eventually he’d been able to find the center of the maze with a stone bench and cast iron canopy over it. Aziraphale sat there for a bit, enjoying the warm air and the sound of birds in the distance. Once he was satisfied, he got up again and with some more effort, managed to find his way out.

Further along in the garden he spied robins and bluebirds nesting in the trees around him. Their birdsong filling Aziraphale with a deep sense of peace. Past other flower beds and growth, Aziraphale came across a large pond surrounded by white stones and lily pads with pink flowering centers. Seeing no bench close by, Aziraphale sat on the soft grass beneath him. 

He looked over the water and spied a group of ducks along the water. He watched them intently. One adult duck, that Aziraphale assumed to be the mother, led a procession of ducklings. Her feathers were a sleek brown and white, while her tiny ducklings were a fuzzy mix of dark brown and bright yellow. Aziraphale lamented not bringing any food for them to eat, but the mother duck seemed to have well enough in hand. 

He watched intently as she led her family around the pond. Occasionally, she would dive deep into the water and pull out a long morsel of vegetation to eat. She moved to feed it to each of her ducklings, their beaks touching briefly before the little thing would gobble it up. Aziraphale watched her repeat this process again and again with all of her brood, diving steadily down into the water and scraping up food to feed her babies. 

He watched the family of ducks and felt a sharp pang in his chest. What must it be like to have a family? To have a place to belong? Here he was, a man without anyone, without even a memory to call his own. Aziraphale sat there, gazing out at the pond, and felt a keen sense of loneliness. He didn’t remember anything or anyone. The only company he had in this strange manor was a person whose face he hadn’t seen and their terrifying pet snake.

Aziraphale frowned at the thought. He sat by the pond for a long time, watching the duck family come and go and waddle to the other side of the grounds. Eventually, he stood up to leave. He dusted off his clothes and winced at the grass stains on his trousers.

Aziraphale spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon scrounging around the manor for some spare clothing, or at least some soap to wash what he was wearing. Or himself, for the matter. He was in sore need of a bath. Surely, the master of the house hid some spare clothes and soap somewhere? It was after some time of fruitless search, however, that Aziraphale gave up. Countless bedrooms, wardrobes and dressers, and not one piece of clothing to be found. Where the master of the house kept any spare clothing was a mystery to him.

‘Perhaps he hides it with his food,’ Azirapahle thought bitterly, as he stomped into the library.

Deciding he needed a break from the stress of trying to solve the mystery that was this confounded manor, Aziraphale spent the rest of the afternoon browsing the chateau's extensive library. He spent a few hours reading a wonderful first edition of Jane Austen’s 'Emma' for several hours, before putting it down. He placed a scrap of paper inside as a bookmark and closed the book to finish later.

Aziraphale stretched in his reading chair, decidedly more calm than before. He stood up and straightened his clothes, wincing at the grass stains on his trousers. He would have to wash his clothes soon. Even if he were just to soak them in some water. Anything would do at this point, although his trousers might not be long for this world without some soap to get rid of the stain.

Aziraphale sighed and placed the book back where he found it. He would finish it tomorrow. As he placed the book back on its place on the shelf however, he noticed something. Next to where he placed his book he saw a collection of Oxford dictionaries. Now Aziraphale couldn’t fathom why one would organize their library with literary fiction next to nonfiction, but nothing about this house made much sense to him anyway.

He browsed the collection of books carefully. There was “The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography”, the Complete A to Z collection, first edition of course, “The Oxford Dictionary of English,” “The Oxford Family Names of Britain and Ireland”, and a few more titles. One book in particular that caught Aziraphale’s eye. Nestled in between the collection of dictionaries was one book titled, “Oxford Dictionary of First Names.” 

Aziraphale stared at the tome blankly for a few seconds before hastily grabbing it from the shelf. It was large and bulky, the spine stiff with disuse. Aziraphale flipped through the pages, his mind racing as he skimmed long lists of names with their historical roots and area of origin.

His eyes flicked from page to page as an idea began to form. He flipped back to the first page and read each name with intent. He read that page again and again until he remembered every name on the page from the heart. The sun was beginning to set and his stomach rumbled. He glanced back down at the book in his hands and closed it firmly shut. 

Dinner was the rest of the leftovers from brunch the other day. It was just as delicious as the first morning, but Aziraphale wouldn’t have minded a bit of variety. Full but unsatisfied, the sun began to set further as Aziraphale made once more for the master bedroom. He hesitated as he entered the room, staring at the canopy bed before him. He promised himself he would find another place to sleep for the night, but his curiosity was tempting him.

He stared at the bed for a long time, fiddling the book in his hands as the sun sank lower and lower into the sky. He thought of ducks gliding on water and empty hallways, quiet and still. 

With purpose, Aziraphale placed the dictionary on the bedside table and undressed for bed. He was hardly tired, but the lower the sun sank into the sky, the more difficult it was to navigate the room. He’d have to find a candle, or lantern, or something around the manor so he could read at night. Although with how his previous attempts at searching for things have gone so far, that might prove difficult.

Aziraphale settled under the covers, repeating the list of names again in his head, and waited. The sun faded from the sky and the light dimmed in the room. Just like the night before where Aziraphale was once wide awake, he suddenly began to feel tired. Try as he might it became more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. Eventually he gave up struggling and fell asleep.

***

Aziraphale awoke to the sound of the creak of the bed. By his side the bed dipped as the owner of the manor settled next to him. Aziraphale sat up straight and turned towards him in the darkness.

“Hello again,” He said. 

The person next to him grunted in answer.

“I know I should um, leave you your space,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I was in the library today and I got an idea.”

He took a deep breath and recited the first name. “Aaron?” He asked.

There was silence between them. Aziraphale could feel the bed shift as the person next to him leaned over towards him. He felt a warm hand cover his once more. It stayed there on top of his but didn’t move.

Aziraphale’s heart pounded in his chest and he licked his lips which suddenly went dry.

“Abe?” He asked next.

The hand stayed put.

“Abraham, Ace, Achilles?” He asked. 

The person next to him snorted in amusement. Aziraphale’s cheeks grew warm at the sound.

“So not Achilles then,” he said. “Wait a moment,” he blinked as a sudden thought came to him. “You are a man aren’t you?” he asked.

The hand atop of his squeezed his in confirmation.

“Oh,” he whispered. “I mean I-I thought so, but I didn’t mean to presume.” He said bashfully.

The hand in his squeezed once more in what Aziraphale assumed to be comfort. Aziraphale’s face felt warm, touched by the gesture.

“Well, how about Adam?” He asked next.

“Tch,” the man next to him grumbled, Aziraphale could practically hear the sneer in his voice.

“Well then, not Adam either,” Aziraphale said. “Hmm Adrien or maybe Ahmed.”

The hand atop his was warm yet still. Aziraphale flushed at the warmth in his hand. He recited the rest of the page that he memorized ending with the name Alan to no such luck. 

“Well that’s all I have for now,” he admitted. “I’ll think of some more tomorrow,” he promised. 

To his disappointment the hand covering his began to retract.

“Wait!” Aziraphale said.

The hand atop his stayed in place. 

“I need to ask you something, if you don’t mind.” He said. “You see, I’ve been trying to find some spare clothes around the chateau, and I can’t seem to find any. I hope you don’t mind, but if you have any to spare so I can wash what I have, I would greatly appreciate it.”

The hand atop of his was still for a moment before it squeezed his once. 

“Oh, so you do have some to spare,” Aziraphale said with not a small amount of relief. “Thank you,truly.”  


Aziraphale paused for a moment before realizing something. “Wait,” he thought out loud. “Where do you keep your clothes, and your food even?” he asked.

The person next to him removed his hand from his. Aziraphale frowned at the loss. “Fine,” he sighed. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Aziraphale lay back down and the person next to him followed suit. Aziraphale stared into the darkness around him. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, willing sleep to come. He lay in the dark for a long time, listening to the stranger next to him fall asleep. Aziraphale strained his ears to hear their breath slow and sigh into sleep. The gentle sound of their breathing soothed him until he too was taken into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! I'm going to try to commit to posting a new chapter every one or two weeks so stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

Daylight woke Aziraphale the next morning. He sat up in bed slowly, rubbing his eyes to chase the sleep away. His body felt stiff, but well rested. He stretched leisurely and ran a hand through his hair. He winced at the texture of it under his hands. It was greasy, and more unkempt than Aziraphale cared for. He took in the rumpled state of his underclothes and sighed. 

“A bath would be nice,” he muttered bitterly, thinking of his previous failure to find any soap in the mansion.

He climbed out of bed and made towards the chair by the empty fireplace where he kept his waist coat. As he turned to reach it however Aziraphale noticed something different. Before his poor waistcoat was wilted and wrinkled from overuse, the one folded neatly on the plush seat looked prim and freshly pressed. Aziraphale marveled at the sight. 

Gingerly he picked it up and held it close to his face. There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. He inhaled deeply and smelled the fresh scent of lavender. It was perfectly laundered. To his surprise his brown boots were placed at the foot of the chair as well. They shone as if freshly polished. 

Aziraphale looked at the waistcoat in his hands and glanced towards the wardrobe on the other side of the room. It wouldn’t do to wrinkle it further. Best to hang it up safely while he scrubbed himself down.

As he opened the wardrobe however, he noticed that it was not empty like it was a few short days ago. In fact, this time around, it was filled to the brim with clothes. Aziraphale gazed inside stunned, nearly dropping his waistcoat in surprise. Inside the wardrobe was a perfect assortment of clothes.

Inside the wardrobe there were many light colored waistcoats and crisp shirts hung up neatly. Aziraphale spotted cream and brown colored trousers on the other side of the wardrobe to match. There were a few coats hung up as well, all of them either beige, white or tan. Beneath that were an assortment of leather shoes, freshly shined and ready for use. All of the clothes were finely pressed and hung neatly. To Aziraphale’s surprise, his white cloak was there was well. He could have sworn he had hung it on the coat rack in the kitchen.

Aziraphale used a spare hanger to hang up his waistcoat next to the others inside. His mind raced. Did the master of the house set this up for him? Aziraphale did remember mentioning the sorry state of his clothes last night, but an entire wardrobe of clothes appearing out of thin air?

Aziraphale might not remember much but seeing all the clothes hung up in the wardrobe all seemed to be the sort of clothes he would usually wear. Judging by the clothing he already owned especially. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they were all in his size as well. 

“But where did they come from?” he asked himself. 

Where indeed? But that was a question for another time. Aziraphale couldn’t keep from smiling at the sight of his brand new clothes. He closed the wardrobe content, and out of idle curiosity, opened the dresser drawers near the bed as well. The results were the same. Numerous nightshirts and sleeping trousers greeted him as well as a collection of soft wool jumpers. 

Aziraphale closed the drawers of the dresser and smiled broadly. Today was shaping up to be a much better one indeed. Still, he was in need of a bath if the grease in his hair was anything to go by. Aziraphale peeked into the en suite bathroom out of curiosity and gasped at the sight.

Where before there wasn’t a towel or bar of soap to speak of, the bathroom he saw before him was now fully stocked. Cabinets that were once empty now contained cream colored towels and hand towels. Next to sink was a crystal cup with a toothbrush and a jar of toothpaste. 

Finally there was the large copper bathtub at the center of the room. The metal gleamed in the light coming from the window at the other side of the room. The tub had a long faucet that could detach from the wall. On a side table next to the tub were three crystal jars with light purple colored liquid and a bar of soap beside it. 

Aziraphale approached the end table and picked up one of the crystal jars. He opened it and took a small sniff. The lovely scent of lavender greeted him. He poked his hand inside and felt the thick creamy residue of the soap. Most likely conditioner. He did the same with the other two containers and the bar of soap and found the same result. The smell was divine and oddly soothing. 

Aziraphale discovered the second container to be filled with shampoo and the third, the smaller of the two, a type of bath oil. Also lavender. A quick glance at a wall cabinet next to the tub boasted other selections of jars of various colors and other bars of soap. 

Just a few days before when Aziraphale first discovered the room, everything had been covered in a fine layer of dust and grime. Now every surface of the room was sparkling clean. As if by magic. 

Aziraphale smiled brightly at the sight. He didn’t know how the master of the house had arranged this so quickly, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask too many questions. Eagerly, he stripped himself of his clothes and started the faucet. Hot steamy water gushed out and quickly filled the tub. 

Aziraphale placed his clothing in a small wicker basket near the sink as the tub filled. He considered the bath oil curiously and placed a small amount into the tub as the water fell. A light lavender smell filled the entire room causing Aziraphale to sigh in content. 

Once the bath was mostly full, Aziraphale turned off the tap and slowly eased himself into the hot water. The heat of the bath felt incredible. Aziraphale sighed deeply and sunk deeper into the water. The smell of lavender permeated the air, soothing him into a daze. Aziraphale enjoyed the heat and sweet smell of the bath for a long time before he began to clean himself.

The shampoo and conditioner made his curly hair silky smooth, and he delighted in scrubbing his body clean with the bar soap and a spare hand towel. By the time the water began to cool Aziraphale felt cleansed and refreshed.

He drained the tub as he toweled dry, spotting a white cotton bathrobe hanging on a hook on the other side of the door. He tied it on, taking note of the golden angel wings embroidered onto the breast pocket of the robe.

“He certainly likes his angel decor,” Aziraphale thought out loud.

Aziraphale finished toweling his hair dry, and rinsed out the tub quickly with the detachable faucet. He brushed his teeth next, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was finally clean and sleek, and his cheeks rosy from the heat of the bath. It felt so good to finally be clean after days of being forced to wear the same clothes every day, and to be able to bath himself properly too, instead of making due with washing his face at the kitchen sink.

Aziraphale left the door to the bathroom open to air out the steam from the bath. He opened up the wardrobe and pondered what to wear for the day, now spoiled for choice.

Aziraphale rummaged through the wardrobe for a little while before deciding on a pair of corduroy trousers, a powder blue shirt and a crisp white waistcoat. He decided on a pair of tan leather shoes to match. As he put them on, it was exactly as he suspected earlier. They all fit perfectly. 

Aziraphale walked down the hall to the kitchen feeling refreshed and relaxed. He entered the kitchen with a spring in his step, and smiled at what greeted him.

At the breakfast table was a single plate and a glass of juice. Upon further inspection, the plate revealed a fluffy omelette, a slice of honeydew and a glass of orange juice next to it. Aziraphale sat himself at the table, taking the napkin folded neatly on the table and placing it on his lap. For a man who was so shy, the master of the house could be rather thoughtful.

The omelette was exquisite. It was still warm, almost as if hot out of the pan. The eggs were fluffy and spinach, mushrooms and gooey melted cheese inside tasted divine. Aziraphale enjoyed his breakfast thoroughly, washing it down with the remainder of the orange juice. 

When he went to rinse his plate in the sink he was pleased to see a container of soap in a glass pump and sponge ready for use. He cleaned his plate and utensils thoroughly and placed them to the side to dry. He checked the stove top to clean the pan that made the omelette but frowned when he found none. Perhaps the master of the house had already put them away? Regardless, Aziraphale made a note to thank them for their hospitality later that night. 

After breakfast, Aziraphale wandered the gardens for the rest of the morning. He brought some of the leftover bread with him and fed the family of ducks. He listened to them squawk and waddle around the edge of the pond peacefully until noon. 

After that, he popped back into the kitchen for a spot of lunch. On the table there was roast chicken breast with a side of garden salad with vinaigrette waiting for him. Aziraphale enjoyed his meal as thoroughly as the last. The master of the house was quite the chef!

He spent the rest of the early evening finishing Jane Austen’s Emma and finalizing his list of names. He stopped by the kitchen one last time as the sun was setting to find a supper of fresh salmon with a creamy sort of lemon sauce, sauteed vegetables and a delightful glass of chilled white wine. 

Full and content by the lovely supper, Aziraphale headed back to the master suite to freshen up for bed. He swapped out his new clothes for a comfortable looking night shirt and trousers in the cabinet next to the bed. He washed his face and brushed his teeth and settled into bed eagerly. This time around he brought Mary Shelly’s 'Frankenstein' to read with the rest of the fading sunlight. He began reading eagerly, straining his eyes in the weak fading light. He really would need to search for some sort of lantern or candle tomorrow. 

The sun sank lower into the sky as the shadows in the bedroom grew. Eventually Aziraphale tired of straining his eyes trying to parse out the words of his book, and placed the novel on the beside counter. His eyes stung a bit from all of the reading he did. He closed his eyes to soothe the ache, rubbing them with his thumb and pointer finger. He tried blinking a few times, but it hurt to keep them open. He closed his eyes to rest them. He tried his best to remain awake, but it was difficult to do lying in such a comfortable bed with his eyes closed. Before Aziraphale knew it, he had already drifted off to sleep. 

Aziraphale awoke once more in the middle of the night. The room pitch black and the mysterious owner of the chateau climbing into bed beside him. He sat up straight, his heart thumping in anticipation.

“Good evening,” he said.

The owner hummed in response as they placed the covers over themselves.

“I made a new list of names,” Aziraphale said eagerly, placing both of his hands on the covers in front of him.

The owner hummed again, and soon after Aziraphale felt the warmth of his hand placed over his own. Aziraphale felt his face heat and smiled in delight. 

“Adrian?” He asked eagerly.

The hand over his own remained still as the owner hummed low in his throat. No then.

“Aiden?” He asked, next to another low hum and still hand.

The names Alan, Albert, Aleksi and Alexander all had the same result but Aziraphale didn’t mind. The hand covering his was warm and comforting and he had a long list to go through. It was only after he said a few more off of his list did a thought struck him.

“Does your name begin with an A ?” He thought out loud. 

Aziraphale couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it before. Here he was wasting time going through so many names when he could have narrowed down his list. He turned towards the man next to him, his hand still upon his.

“Does it not?” He asked again. 

The hand remained still. Aziraphale frowned. “It does then,” he decided.

Suddenly the hand covering his squeeze his eagerly. The man next to him clasped his hand tight, rubbing his thumb in soothing circle’s. Aziraphale’s breath stuttered at the motion.

“It does, doesn’t it?” He marveled.

The man next to him hummed contently.

“Right then, how about Alessandro then?” He asked next.

Time passed by quickly as Aziraphale went through the long list of names he memorized. Each one incorrect. It was some time before he reached the end with still no result. Still Aziraphale could not say that he was disappointed. On the contrary, he felt quite content. Even after the man next to him removed his hand Aziraphale could still feel the ghost of his touch. 

“Thank you so much for the lovely meals today,” Aziraphale said. “They were perfectly scrumptious, you are a wonderful cook.” 

His companion hummed in response, but it sounded content.

“I should apologize for bothering you,” Aziraphale confessed. “You’ve done so much to help me feel welcome here. Especially considering my-” Aziraphale trailed off, thinking of his lack of memory. He swallowed thickly and gripped the sheets in front of him tightly. “My lack of memory” he said quietly.

The bed shifted again as the man next to him leaned closer to him. Aziraphale felt his hand atop his again while his shoulder brushed his own. He ducked his head down meekly, his cheeks burning. 

“It’s just-it’s just hard. Not being able to remember anything,” he stuttered out. “I guess I’ve been feeling a little, lonely,” he said, his mind wandering back to the family of ducklings at the pond. 

The person next to him was quiet, save for their gentle breath close to Aziraphale ear. Aziraphale hunched his shoulders close to his ears. “But I don’t mean to trouble you,” he said shaking his head. “I’ve already bothered you enough,” he said with a sigh.

The man next to him said nothing. He simply stayed by Aziraphale’s side, rubbing his thumb in smooth circles over his hand. 

“You, don’t really mind, do you?” Aziraphale asked.

The owner said nothing, he simply continued rubbing his thumb into Aziraphale’s hand soothingly, breathing evenly. 

“You really don’t mind at all then,” Aziraphale said with wonder.

His hand was squeeze twice in quick succession, no. 

They stayed like that for a while, until Aziraphale’s eyes grew heavy once more. His companion removed his hand from his when they went to lay do to sleep. As Aziraphale lay in the darkness, he was struck with another thought. His hand had never felt so empty and alone before.

*** 

The following days passed more or less the same. Aziraphale would wake in the morning alone, the door of the bedroom cracked open to let the light in. Sometimes he would bathe in the morning, others in the evening, but now that he had the option he chose to soak in the bath once a day. He steadily worked his way through the cabinet of soaps, trying out different scents as he went. After the lavender scents he found rose scented oils, jasmine scented soaps, peony scented shampoo, and many others. The different assortment of bathing oils and shampoos left Aziraphale quite spoiled for choice.

Aziraphale typically spent his mornings wandering about the garden, exploring every secret path and hidden bed of flowers he could find. The place he spent most of his time, however, was the bench that had appeared by the duck pond. Watching the ducks and other woodland creatures stop by the water for a drink was very soothing for Aziraphale. He spent hours enjoying the early spring breeze in the sunshine, or even cloudy weather. On cooler mornings he would wear coats and sweaters to the pond, not minding the chill one bit. 

Every time Aziraphale thought he was getting a bit peckish he would wander to the kitchen and find a lovely meal waiting for him. Each meal was different than the one before. For breakfast Aziraphale dined on sausages, crepes, french toast, scones, porridge, eggs and omelettes. For lunch he would enjoy an assortment of soups, salads, sandwiches, wraps. Dinners thus far consisted of roast duck, pasta, shepherd's pie, and on one particularly cool evening where Aziraphale experienced, to his memory anyway, his first spring rain, the most delectable stew he had ever tasted. 

Aziraphale spent many afternoons combing the library for the perfect book to take to his little reading nook for the rest of the day. He read at least one book a day. As soon as he had finished reading one book, he would start another, deterred only by the weakening light of the setting sun. 

Aziraphale spent a day or two combing the chateau for a lantern or candle, but despite the burnt down wicks in the study he found that very first day, he could find none. This began to be particularly frustrating, as more than once Aziraphale found himself unwilling to put down a particularly engrossing read, and found himself forced to put the book down to finish tomorrow. 

Despite his frustration, Aziraphale couldn’t help but look forward to every evening. Each day he memorized the next list of names with special care to ask the owner of the manor. Each time he had little luck in guessing the owner’s name, but Aziraphale didn’t let that deter him. To his secret pleasure, Aziraphale quite enjoyed being wrong. The longer he spent reciting his list each night, the longer his companion spent holding his hand. 

Having someone around him felt, well, nice. Even if it was only at night and Aziraphale couldn’t make out their face, or any of them really, it was comforting to have someone else around him. One night after a particularly lovely dinner of pasta with ham, onions, tomatoes and cream paired with a lovely red wine. Aziraphale settled into bed after freshening up, fell asleep at sunset and after waking up to darkness once more ran through his list of names for the night.

“Alistair?” Aziraphale asked his companion. When no answer followed he said, “Well not Alistair then,” he mumbled. 

His hand was then squeezed twice for no in agreement. 

“How about Allen?” When no answer came he said, “Definitely not Allen then.”

His hand was squeezed twice once more. He had worked his way through most of his list for the night when something different happened.

“Anthony?” he asked.

Immediately, the hand covering his squeezed tightly, just shy of painful. Aziraphale startled in surprise. “A-anthony?” he said again, his heart pounding in his chest.

The man beside him, Anthony mind quickly corrected, laughed a sharp, incredulous laugh. Aziraphale sat there stunned, his hand squeezed tight as Anthony laughed light and free. The sound was higher pitched than Aziraphale would have expected, but free and filled with relief. In Aziraphale’s short memory, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

“Anthony,” he whispered, squeezing his hand back.

Anthony eventually quieted, he took a deep rattling breaths and if there were any quiet tearful sobs, Aziraphale pretended not to hear them. After he had calmed down Aziraphale could not help but ask a question that had been at the back of his mind for some days now.

“Anthony, I don’t mean to pry, but is there a reason that you can’t speak?” he asked.

Anthony sighed deeply. The hand holding Aziraphale’s own relaxed its grip. 

“It’s just, were you um born mute then?” he asked unable to contain his curiosity. “It’s fine if you were, I’ve just been wondering.”

Anthony grumbled frustrated. 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t wish too,” Aziraphale quickly corrected. “I understand this is a bit of a personal question.” 

Anthony sighed but said nothing. The hand covering Aziraphale’s own remained still. 

“So, you weren’t born mute then?” Aziraphale asked. 

Anthony let out a sharp surprised breath before squeezing his hand once quickly. Aziraphale’s heart pounded at the admission, turning the new information over in his head. 

“So, you became mute then,” he said slowly. “Was, it um, forgive me if I’m being rude but was it an accident then?”

Anthony let out a deep tired breath, the sound rattling in his chest. 

“It, it wasn’t an accident?” Aziraphale interpreted.

The hand covering his squeezed once and then went still once more. Aziraphale’s heart pounded in his chest as he processed this, his mind reeling at the implication. His body felt numb with the horror of the realization.

“Someone, did this to you?” He asked lowly. “On purpose?” he asked more as a statement than a question.

There was a small pause before his hand was squeezed once in admission. Aziraphale sat there dumbfounded. He held onto Anthony’s hand tightly, frightened to let go. All of a sudden a strong terrible emotion swept throughout him, cold bitter rage.

“Who did this to you?” He asked lowly. “Why would anyone make it so you couldn’t speak? That’s- it’s just despicable!” he spat.

Anthony sighed again deeply. The bed shifted again and Aziraphale could feel a weight shift closer to him. All of a sudden he felt Anthony's head lay on his shoulder. The weight was warm and comforting. Aziraphale froze in shock at the surprising action of intimacy. It swept the breath right out of him. He could feel the tickle of Anthony’s hair tickling the underside of his chin. 

Aziraphale sat there still as a statue as he listened to Anthony breathe in and out. The rage left him suddenly and he felt cold and weary without it. He squeezed Anthony’s hand in comfort, rubbing soothing circles into his hand with his thumb. Aziraphale didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to make things right. All he could do was sit there in silence, comforting Anthony like he had comforted him. 

Aziraphale didn’t say anything more that night. There was nothing for him to say. Anthony and he sat there for a long while together, long into the night. Eventually, Anthony lifted his head from Aziraphale’s shoulder, squeezing his hand one last time, and settled onto his side of the bed. Aziraphale followed suit but it took him a long time after that to drift off. His mind was racing faster than he could follow. He had so many questions and not nearly enough answers.

There was one thing Aziraphale knew for sure however. If there was any way to undo what had been done to Anthony. Any way at all, Aziraphale would find it. He swore. With that in mind, resolutely, Aziraphale closed his eyes and willed for sleep to come. It was a bitter sort of thing, waiting for sleep to come. Waiting for dawn to come among all of his troubled thoughts. 

Never before had Aziraphale cared so little for daylight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done, I hope you guys like it!


	4. Chapter 4

Aziraphale went through his daily routine that next morning in a daze. His mind replayed the conversation with Anthony over and over on an endless loop. Despite all he learned, he had more questions now than answers. Who would make it so Anthony couldn’t speak? Why couldn’t he speak anyway? Had he been injured? Was that why Anthony only came by at night? Was there any physical scarring he might be embarrassed about?

Aziraphale pondered all of this as he sat on the bench by the pond, watching the same family of ducks swim by. There was one more thought in the back of his mind. One more nagging suspicion that Aziraphale was frightened to think about. He had no memory, no recollection of who he was or where he came from. Now he knew someone made it so Anthony could not speak. Was it possible that someone had made it so Aziraphale had no memory?

Just the thought of that being true sent a cold chill through him. Aziraphale hunched his shoulders and gazed out at the rippling water in front of him. The family of ducks had moved to the other end of the pond and ambled onto the shore. He watched them for a while, before the sound of rustling by his side gained his attention.

Aziraphale peered to to the right, and froze as he saw Anthony’s enormous pet snake slithering in the grass towards him. The serpent was gazing straight at him, it’s golden eyes intent and unblinking. Aziraphale didn’t dare move a muscle in fear of provoking it.

‘Maybe if I stay perfectly still, it’ll leave me alone,” he thought wildly.

Sadly, despite his caution, the serpent slithered close enough where Aziraphale could see the thin black slits of it’s eyes. Soon enough it was only a few feet away from him. It reared its head and upper body and peered intently into Aziraphale’s eyes. Aziraphale was just thinking of cutting his losses and making a break for it when the snake did something unexpected. It inclined its head towards Aziraphale, curled itself into a loose spiral, and lay down in the grass. 

Aziraphale stared at the snake dumbly, his heart pounding in his chest. The bright morning sun shone on it’s dark scales. The serpent lay its head down atop of its body and closed its eyes. The warmth of the sun shone down as Aziraphale sweat under his collared shirt and waistcoat. Eventually, his heart calmed a bit as Aziraphale stared at the beast in wonder. Had it just, fallen asleep?

Aziraphale stared at the beast dumbly, his hands clenched in his lap as it continued to snooze in the late morning sun. Aziraphale looked back out towards the water, occasionally looking at the serpent at his side in the corner of his eye. 

Despite his misgivings, the serpent didn’t bother him. It continued to snooze in the late morning sun. It only moved when Aziraphale stood up slowly from the bench after being unable to ignore his grumbling stomach. It stared lazily up at him when he stood up. Aziraphale froze again under the gaze of it’s golden eyes. He watched mutely as it uncoiled itself from its place next to the bench. It gave Aziraphale one last lingering look, before slithering away into the brush from where it came.

Aziraphale stared at the space it left dumbly, willing his heart to slow. It was only later, after he had eaten lunch and he had settled into his reading nook, did it occur to him that the snake had been almost friendly. Aziraphale contemplated that strange thought as he struggled to continue to focus on his reading. 

‘Perhaps it hasn’t decided to eat me yet,’ he couldn’t help but think darkly as he turned the page to his book. ‘Maybe it’s just biding its time.’

Despite that errant thought, he couldn’t help but dismiss it. The serpent hadn't shown any aggression towards him, not since that first day at the manor at least. Maybe it had come around? Aziraphale sighed and put away his book. He wouldn’t be getting much reading done today. 

The sun had not yet set and Aziraphale had some hours to kill before night fell. He just couldn’t that blasted serpent out of his head. Why did Anthony have a behemoth of a serpent as his pet anyway? Where did he get one so large? Aziraphale might not remember much, but he was pretty sure there weren’t usually any creatures like that lurking about. At least, he hoped not. 

Was it for companionship? Aziraphale did concede that the manor could get a little lonely at times, even when he occupied himself during the day. How terrible for Anthony, to have had to live in a crumbling home with no one else for company. Was it any wonder he let a complete stranger live in his home?

That still didn’t explain the snake, however. It might be a bit of a strange pet to keep, but to each their own, Aziraphale supposed. 

‘Maybe it keeps the vermin away from the garden?’ Aziraphale mused. ‘It is a rather large beast, and with a garden that large there would be no shortage of animals for it to eat.’ 

Obviously the serpent didn’t care much for eating people, as it had not devoured Aziraphale that very first day. Maybe it was trained? It seemed quite intelligent anyway. It always seemed so every time it locked eyes with Aziraphale, like it knew things he did not.

‘Silly,’ Aziraphale muttered to himself shaking the thought from his head.

Regardless, Aziraphale would have to ask Anthony about his pet snake tonight. If Aziraphale was going to be living in the chateau for the foreseeable future, then he might as well become accustomed to Anthony’s pet serpent as well. Maybe learn exactly what to do to keep it satisfied.

Aziraphale spent the rest of the evening puttering about the library, browsing a few books to read tomorrow and enjoying a lovely dinner of beef wellington, cucumber soup and a thick chocolate mousse for dessert. Afterwards Aziraphale settled into bed as the sun crept down. As always, he tried to remain awake and maybe see Anthony stroll in, but before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. 

He woke up to Anthony climbing into bed as usual in the pitch dark.

“There’s been something on my mind,” Aziraphale confessed.

Anthony huffed in response.

“Well a few things,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I won’t trouble you with some of them.”

Anthony covered his hand over Aziraphale’s and gave it a small squeeze.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Aziraphale said. “But I have been imposing on you quite enough already. But never mind my problems for now,” he said. “Is that large serpent in the garden your, um, pet?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony’s hand remained still on Aziraphales own. Aziraphale frowned. “So, it’s not your pet?” he asked curiously.

Anthony held his hand still in response.

Aziraphale remained silent for a moment, puzzled. “So, it’s not your pet then?” he asked slowly.

Anthony squeezed his hand again in agreement. 

“So, is it just some wild beast wandering the grounds?” Aziraphale asked in alarm. 

All of this time he had been operating under the assumption that the beast belonged to Anthony. The thought of it roaming wild in the garden was a bit much for him to handle. 

Anthony didn’t give him any response. Aziraphale groaned in frustration.

“I just don’t understand,” he said. “If it’s not your pet and it’s not a wild beast, what is it then. A friend, a companion?” He wondered.

Anthony again didn’t respond, all he did was sigh. Aziraphale pursed his lips at the sound. “You know, you aren’t always terribly forthcoming,” he muttered.

Anthony huffed out a laugh that came out just a bit sharp to Aziraphale’s ears. He removed his hand from its place covering his own. Aziraphale suddenly felt a spark of anger and frowned more deeply.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” he complained. “If it’s not your pet then what is it then?”

Anthony said nothing in response as always, but neither did place his hand back over Aziraphale’s. 

“I don’t understand, I can’t understand unless you tell me,” Aziraphale said. “I can’t remember anything at all, but I’m certain a beast like that isn’t usually found in a garden. Did you know that thing nearly devoured me when I first got here?”

That was a thought Aziraphale couldn’t get out of his head. The first time he saw the creature it lunged and constricted around him. Earlier today it slept by his side peacefully. He just couldn’t reconcile both behaviors in his brain.

Anthony said nothing beside him. His silence was grating on Aziraphale’s nerves. 

“Well I suppose it might be useful in the garden,” Aziraphale conceded. “And it didn’t try to eat me this morning,” he mumbled. In fact the two of them spending time together that morning was actually quite pleasant. Once Aziraphale had gotten over his initial terror. He shook his head.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked Anthony who had remained silent during the entire exchange. “Erm not say,” he corrected quickly. “But, oh you know what I meant,” Aziraphale huffed.

Anthony continued to say nothing to Aziraphale’s mounting frustration. 

“Did I say something wrong, have I offended you?” Aziraphale asked. “Please Anthony, I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

It was only after a beat of silence that Aziraphale realized he was yelling. He gripped the sheets in his hands and took deep rattling breaths. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Aziraphale apologized after he had calmed himself down. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.” 

Anthony offered him no comfort, nor acknowledgement to Aziraphale’s words. The bed shifted again, and the weight by his side leaned away from him. The covers shifted and Aziraphale got the impression that Anthony had moved away from him and lay down in bed.

“Are, are you ignoring me?” Aziraphale asked incredulously.

Anthony remained silent and did not move again.

“That’s very immature of you,” Aziraphale pointed out.

Anthony continued to ignore him.

“Fine, good!” Aziraphale huffed. “Goodnight then.”

Aziraphale also lay back down in bed. He turned away from Anthony’s side of the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Fine, let Anthony be upset. Never mind his pet snake scared Aziraphale half to death. Was it so wrong to want some answers anyway? It’s not as if Aziraphale was filled with nothing but questions with no answers. It’s not as if the two of them were trapped in this house together, somehow with no way out. It’s not as if Anthony had been entirely forthcoming the entire time he had been here anyway. 

Aziraphale sniffed and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the hot sting of tears threaten to fall. He took deep breaths to stave it off. He lay in bed for a long while, fighting off tears, feeling both angry and thoroughly miserable. He didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but the next thing he knew he was waking up to an empty bed the next morning. 

Aziraphale stared at the empty side of the bed blankly. He didn’t know why he expected anything different. Aziraphale dressed in a daze, barely putting much thought into what he was wearing. He chose to forgo his morning bath, not feeling much up to soak in the tub. He walked towards the kitchen, but upon seeing the fruit and bread bowl prepared for him, chose to skip eating entirely. He wasn’t feeling particularly hungry anyway. 

Aziraphale wandered about the garden without any thought in particular where to go. He discovered new flower beds of anemone and forget me nots, but he found little joy in discovering them. 

It was only after aimlessly wandering the garden for the better part of the morning, did Aziraphale get the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. He turned around from where he was inspecting a particularly impressive canopy of roses over the garden path, and saw straight behind him was the beast himself. 

Aziraphale stared into its sharp golden eyes, unmoving and unblinking. They stared at each other for a moment before he had enough.

“If your going to eat me, carry on with it then,” Aziraphale said. 

The serpent tilted its head at him curiously.

“If your going to eat me I’d rather you do it now,” Aziraphale continued. 

The serpent did nothing except lower its upper body towards the ground slowly. Aziraphale began to walk through the shaded canopy path calmly, as if an intimidating beast of a serpent wasn't a few short feet behind him. Aziraphale wandered about the garden path, enjoying the sweet smell of the roses through the shaded canopy, and kept careful eye at the serpent behind him. 

It seemed docile enough as it lazily followed Aziraphale’s trail. Aziraphale calmly made his way through the exit of the rose canopy and back into the garden proper. 

“I wouldn’t suppose you know where you came from?” Aziraphale asked.

He glanced at the beast beside him which was staring at him intently.

“Well it’s alright if you don’t, you see, I don’t know myself either.” Aziraphale admitted, feeling only a little bit foolish talking to an animal. “It’s just, oh, I wish Anthony would tell me is all,” he admitted.

He stopped in his tracks and sighed, fiddling with his hands. “I just feel like he knows things he’s not telling me,” he said. “And a man is entitled to his secrets, but still, I wish he would just trust me with some, you know?” he said. 

The serpent, now beside him gazed at Aziraphale intently. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” he sighed continuing his wandering path through the garden, the serpent trailing beside him. “It’s not like you can understand me,” he said.

The serpent hissed a bit, and when Aziraphale turned to look, stuck out its tongue. Aziraphale took a small half step to the side in case it got any ideas. 

“Or maybe you can.” he muttered to himself. “It wouldn’t surprise me in this house.”

Aziraphale and the serpent meandered around the garden for some time. Aziraphale sighed at the impressive sight of a rather large flower bed of tulips surrounding the statue of a one winged angel holding a shield and spear in her hands.

“He’s just so amazing,” Aziraphale said. 

The serpent beside him hissed again.

“Oh don’t be like that, you’re quite lovely too,” Aziraphale chastised. And it was true, the serpents dark scales gleamed an undertone of red in the bright morning light. 

“Anthony is just such a skilled gardener. I wish I could create something as lovely as this.” He gestured to the multicolored bed of tulips. “And he’s such a wonderful cook too. I don’t even remember if I even knew how to cook.” he sighed.

The serpent tilted its head again hissing again.

“He must spend a long time in the garden,” Aziraphale mused. “Everything is just so lovely, it must take an awful amount of work to maintain.”

The serpent lowered its head and hissed again, curling up on the ground.

“Off for a nap then?” Aziraphale asked. “Well don’t let me keep you then.” 

Aziraphale left the serpent curled up on the garden path in the warmth of the sun. He wandered back inside the kitchen, enjoying a sweet apple and a morsel of bread and butter before heading to the library. Sadly, he could concentrate on his reading about as well as he did yesterday, which was to say not at all. 

Aziraphale huffed a deep sigh early that afternoon, putting down the novel he was reading. Nothing was keeping his attention. Every time he tried to concentrate on the pages of his book, his mind kept wandering back to his argument with Anthony earlier that night. There was nothing for it. He would just have to apologize tonight. Aziraphale might be frustrated with Anthony’s secrecy, but that was nobody’s fault but his own. He was living in the man’s home and being treated to his hospitality. Aziraphale was embarrassed to admit, with some hindsight, that he was acting rather the poor guest. 

Aziraphale went to put his novel away, giving the effort away as a bad job. When he placed it back in its place on the shelf, he accidentally jostled it’s neighbor. A small brown book with gold trimming fell to the floor, causing Aziraphale’s heart to nearly stop. To his horror, the book had fallen face first on the ground, the delicate pages crushed from the impact of hitting the floor. He picked up the book gingerly, his hands shaking. He carefully inspected the spine to see if there was any damage. Luckily there was none, but some of the pages inside had been bent from where they hit the ground.

Aziraphale could tell from a glance this was an expensive edition. Ruining such a lovely book was just another thing he’d have to apologize to Anthony for. Anxiously, he flipped over the book, inspecting the crushed pages. They weren’t too rumpled, and thankfully none of the paper had ripped. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

He glanced over the pages curiously. It was a script for a play. Three witches were singing in a cavern around a boiling cauldron, casting a spell. After glancing at the cover, the golden script for “Macbeth” shone in the afternoon light. 

Aziraphale hummed to himself reading the next few pages. The witches grant prophecies to Macbeth, who conspires to murder his king. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at a scene where the witches conjured cryptic visions of the future before vanishing. Normally, Aziraphale would be intrigued by the book, and would sit down to read it straight away, but his argument with Anthony still plagued his thoughts. His eyes skimmed the page with the witches again and again, a stray thought forming at the back of his head.

“Magic?” he wondered to himself. 

Well it certainly made for a good plot device and an interesting story, was Aziraphale’s first thought. He could see how magic would also transfer onto the stage of a play. It would certainly make for some entertaining spectacle. Aziraphale tucked the book away in his reading nook, resolving to read it tomorrow when he had the wits to read it.

Aziraphale left the library and wandered around the manner, restless. He wandered in and out of moldering bedrooms, sitting rooms, and on one memorable occasion, a decrepit ballroom. All the while his thoughts were running miles ahead of him. Magic wasn’t real, he was fairly certain. It existed in books and plays and children’s stories, but it didn’t exist in real life. 

Despite his conviction, doubt niggled at the back of his mind. He paced the empty halls of the chateau with no respite. Paths that formed through a wild wood, things that appeared out of thin air, entire rooms fixed up over night, and finally, an endless fog that surrounded the manor, creating no escape. Aziraphale’s life was filled with nothing but the improbable the moment he came here. 

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks in an empty hallway. He clenched and unclenched his hands as he willed his thoughts to settle. There was no way out, why or how Aziraphale couldn’t truly say. A sudden thought struck Aziraphale and he turned on heel. He went through the empty hallways and made his way back to the front of the manor. 

He marched past the gaudy angels wrestling in the foyer and back out the front door. He passed through courtyard fountain and through the gate covered in ivy, and straight towards the rolling fog in the distance. He didn’t have to walk for long. It rolled towards him like a tide, crashing into him and surrounding him in thick grey mist. As before, he was back where he started, staring straight at the gate that brought him there.

Aziraphale’s thoughts raced as he turned around and marched back towards the fog once more. Again it surrounded him and again placed him back towards the front entrance of the manor. Aziraphale’s heart pounded in his chest as again and again he marched and then ran, straight into the fog, the iron gate to his back, and then back through the fog again, the gate miraculously facing him frontwards instead. He ran and ran, caught in an endless sickening loop that no matter how hard he tried, placed him exactly where he started. 

Aziraphale heaved with exertion after his final run, placing one of his hands on the thick vines and cool metal of the gate as he fought to catch his breath. His vision swam as sweat stung his eyes along with tears of frustration.

Aziraphale gripped the bar of the gate so tightly his knuckles went white and hand painfully tense. Magic was real, or at least it was real here, and Aziraphale didn’t know what to do about it.

Releasing his grip from the gate was difficult. His hand was cramped and red, but there was nothing much for it. Aziraphale eventually wandered back inside the chateau. The sun had not yet set, but would do so in a few hours. Aziraphale wandered to the sitting room he encountered on the first day in the manor and collapsed into the velvet cushions of the chaise lounge. The cushions were well broken in. Aziraphale sank gratefully into the cushions, sighing deeply. 

His head swam as he rested his head against the lounge, his body going boneless with relief. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out. It didn’t make him feel much better. He opened his eyes again and glanced around the room. Atop the onyx coffee table was Anthony’s record player, a bottle of wine, and a used crystal wine glass. Aziraphale considered the wine glass and record player for a moment before leaning forward towards the table. 

His body groaned in the effort as he tried to get out of the sunken couch and reach towards the bottle. It was unlabeled and already half empty. He popped the cork and poured a generous amount into the wine glass. It still had some wine residue from when Anthony had previously used it, but he paid it little mind. He looked to the record player, already loaded with a disk. He fumbled a bit with the needle, placing it on the record and cranking the handle on it’s side.

Soft rock music began to play. The singer woefully sang about pale blue eyes to the tune of a steady tamborine and gentle guitar strings. Aziraphale sank back into the chaise and took a sip of wine. It was a heady fruity flavor that didn’t leave such a strong aftertaste. A good vintage then. Aziraphale closed his eyes, drinking and listening to the music, working his way steadily through the wine bottle. 

The tune wasn’t so bad for bebop, if a bit depressing. But Aziraphale didn’t mind a bit of the gloom at the moment. Instead, he fully embraced it. Aziraphale listened to the rest of the record, a personal collection of other songs, if the different singers were anything to go by. All of the music was slow and perfectly matched Aziraphale’s mood. 

Aziraphale worked his way through the rest of the wine and slowly worked his way to drunkeness. By the time the record looped again, all of the wine was gone and his vision swam, but not unpleasantly. He frowned at the empty bottle, wishing for another. He sighed again and rubbed his eyes. All of a sudden, he felt fatigued. The sun was setting, leaving an unpleasant glare in the room. Aziraphale squinted in the light. He lay back down on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes to block out the sun. His eyes felt heavy and his troubled thoughts drifted away from him and on into sleep. 

***

Aziraphale woke up that night with a pounding headache and a sour taste in his mouth. He squinted in the darkness, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the moon shining into the sitting room. He sat up from the lounge groggily rubbing his eyes. His back twinged with the motion. His entire body felt sore, and Azirapahale couldn’t tell if it was the wine or the broken in cushions.

He stood up shakily, stretching his body. His mouth felt dry, but judging by the dim light of the hallway, Aziraphale would have trouble finding the master bedroom, let alone wander the manor for the kitchen. Aziraphale sighed as he left the sitting room to try and find the master suite. He kept one hand on the wall as he walked gingerly down the hall. He squinted his eyes in the darkness, trying to see better, but it did him no good. It took him longer than he’d have liked, a few wrong turns and collisions with stray furniture to finally find it. 

The door to the room was closed, and Aziraphale hesitated in front of the door. He swallowed thickly. Did Anthony even want him there? Maybe it would be best if he went back to the living room for the night. 

‘No,’ Aziraphale thought, shaking the thought from his head. 

That was the cowards way out. It was time for him to apologize.

Aziraphale opened the door to the room. The room was pitch dark and impossible to see through. None of the moonlight from the hallway could cut through the dark, it was uncanny. Aziraphale stepped inside, tentatively reaching out with his hands to try and navigate. He heard the door behind him click shut and the bed creak as Anthony moved around. 

“One moment,” he called out slowly making his way through the room. 

He bumped into the dresser on the way to the bed, and finally felt the soft sheets under his hands.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to let some light in here,” he grumbled as he began to undress in the dark. He settled for sleeping in his trousers and undershirt, not wanting to attempt finding some night clothes in the pitch black. 

He climbed bed, listening as Anthony moved around. He settled in, feeling a depression in the mattress already. The spot he occupied was already warm when he climbed in.

“Oh my,” he said suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to steal your spot.”

Anthony grunted in acknowledgement. 

“If I woke you, I apologize I um, lost track of the time,” he confessed. “And there’s something else I should apologize for,” he said taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you, I’m a guest in your home and-”

Aziraphale trailed off when he felt a warm hand covering his. It clasped his tight. Aziraphale blushed at the touch.

“Um, yes well,” he stuttered. “I shouldn’t have insulted your uh, companion,” he said. “Your snake isn’t as bad as I thought it was.”

Anthony squeezed his hand again, rubbing his thumb soothingly into Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale’s heart pounded at the touch. His face felt hot and he swallowed dryly. He grimaced to himself at the sour taste of wine still on his tongue. 

“There's one more thing I should say though,” he continued. “It might sound a bit daft, but, well, I just can’t get it out of my mind.”

Anthony squeezed his hand again in encouragement.

“I was reading in the library earlier and I sort of got an idea. It’s well, it just sounds silly saying it aloud but, do you think your home might be a bit, magic?”

Anthony’s hand stopped it’s rubbing motion. 

“I know I sound ridiculous,” Aziraphale continued. “But well there’s this terrible fog around the manor and I tried leaving again earlier and-”

Anthony hummed lowly and did nothing else. Aziraphale felt his heart sink in his chest.

“I-I know I’m not making sense!” Aziraphale continued, frowning at the loss. “It’s just that, well nothing seems to make much sense here and I thought, well if nothing makes sense, maybe the answer doesn’t either?” 

When Anthony gave him no response Aziraphale despaired.

“I’ve offended you again,” he said miserably. 

Anthony sighed. The bed creaked again and Aziraphale felt a warm body lean against his. He froze as he felt Anthony place his head on his shoulder.

Aziraphale’s heart pounded and he swallowed thickly. They stayed like that for a while. Aziraphale could feel Anthony’s chest move with each breath, his ear tickling when he exhaled. His hand warm over his own.

“This house is magic, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said quietly.

Anthony’s hand squeezed his once in agreement.

Aziraphale stared into the darkness in a daze. An idea came to him, an impossible one but one that might very well be true.

“Are you also magic then?” He asked, but in his heart he already knew.

Aziraphale heard a sharp intake of breath and then a quick firm squeeze for yes. Aziraphale’s mind raced at the confirmation. 

“S-so all of the food appearing from nowhere, and the bath soaps, that was all you, wasn’t it?” he asked with wonder.

Anthony nodded his head against his shoulder. Aziraphale smiled in delight.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered.

Anthony buried his head more closely into his shoulder bashfully.

“It’s true!” Aziraphale insisted. “You are! You’re such a wonderful cook, and your garden is just marvelous, you’re always so kind and, and, you’re just incredible!” he exclaimed.

Aziraphale blushed hotly when he was done realizing he had actually said something quite embarrassing. Anthony continued to hide his face in his shoulder and squeeze Aziraphale’s hand tightly in his own. Aziraphale smiled, pleased that Anthony was no longer angry at him and they were getting along again.

He heard Anthony huff a quiet laugh into his shoulder and shake his head as if in disagreement. Aziraphale puffed out his chest to retort before a thought came to him. It caused the smile to fall from his face in realization. He had heard Anthony laugh. It was a delightful sound, but it didn’t make sense. Wasn’t Anthony’s voice damaged?

Aziraphale frowned at the thought. Anthony must have sensed the abrupt change in his mood, and removed his head from his shoulder. Even in the complete darkness, Aziraphale could feel his eyes staring at him. Suddenly a thought struck him.

“Anthony, can you not speak, because of the magic?” he asked. 

As soon as he spoke it out loud, Aziraphale felt a sudden change in the air. It felt like climbing down from a mountain and feeling your ears pop from the change in pressure. He felt a shiver down his spine as the feeling came and went. 

He was just trying to figure out what had happened when he heard a raspy low voice call out to him.

“Angel.” 

Aziraphale looked to his side in the darkness. Anthony gripped his hand so tightly it was beginning to sting. His hand trembled in Aziraphale’s grasp.

“Anthony?” he whispered in disbelief.

“It’s me Angel,” Anthony whispered back.

Aziraphale felt a hand caressing his face and brush aside some of his hair. The touch felt warm and electric on his skin.

“I-I don’t understand,” Aziraphale stuttered. “I thought you couldn’t speak?”

“I couldn’t,” Anthony admitted.

“That’s-” Aziraphale stuttered. 

“Impossible?” Anthony asked and Aziraphale could sense the wry tone in his voice. 

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale said.

“Angel, I think you’ve noticed a lot of impossible things lately.” Anthony pointed out.

“I know that much,” Aziraphale said indignantly. “It’s just, why is it that you can speak now?”

Anthony sighed deeply. “I wish I could tell you,” he said quietly.

“Well why can’t you?” Aziraphale urged. 

“Because Angel, I, I-” he stuttered through gritted teeth.

Anthony squeezed Aziraphale’s hand again. Aziraphale winced at the pressure, his hand going numb.

“Anthony, you’re hurting me,” he said.

Anthony quickly released his grip on Aziraphale’s hand, letting it go entirely. Aziraphale was sad to have it go. As he rubbed the feeling back into his hand he heard Anthony let out a rattled breath.

"Oh don't worry dear, it was an accident," Aziraphale soothed.

Anthony laughed sharply. Aziraphale pretended not to hear as he heard Anthony let out quiet sobs. He patted his knee gently while he worked through them. Eventually, his sobs quieted. 

“I wish I could tell you everything,” he whispered. 

Aziraphale frowned. “You don’t have to tell me everything Anthony, you’re allowed your secrets.” 

“No, you don’t understand,” Anthony said wretchedly. “I want to tell you everything Angel.” 

Aziraphale blinked at the admission. He turned Anthony’s words over in his mind. “Anthony, could it be that the magic won’t let you tell me, um, certain things?”

Anthony let out a long breath. “Yesss,” he said. 

Aziraphale felt his stomach flip at the admission. “And you can’t tell me who did all of this then as well?” 

“Yes,” Anthony said again.

Aziraphale let out a rattled breath and rubbed his eyes in frustration. “How do I, how do stop this?” he corrected himself.

“I wish I could say Angel,” he said.

“So you really can’t say anything!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Anthony, who's done this to you? Why would anyone cast a spell like this?” he asked, as if saying the words ‘cast a spell’ out loud had a strange magic of their own. 

Anthony said nothing more, for he could not say anything else. Aziraphale’s thoughts raced as he tried to get them in order. Anthony and the house was under the influence of some strange sort of magic. Aziraphale inwardly cringed at the word, but tried to move past it. Anthony knew things he did not, but the magic wouldn’t let him speak of it, just as the magic wouldn’t let Aziraphale leave the manor proper. Aziraphale frowned and placed his hand under his chin, as if trying to solve a particularly difficult riddle. Only this riddle concerned their very lives. 

He organized his thoughts into what he did know for sure. Anthony couldn’t speak until very recently. The magic wouldn’t allow him to, until now that is. But why could Anthony speak now? Aziraphale concentrated on that one thought. He certainly felt a strange energy in the air before. That could only mean the spell had somehow broken. 

He thought harder. Humming under his breath. He heard Anthony shift next to him, placing a warm hand on his thigh comfortingly. Right before the spell broke, Aziraphale had asked if he couldn’t speak because of the magic. And now that he thought about it, it wasn’t the first time he had to sort things out for himself. Why Anthony couldn’t even tell him his name until he figured it out first. Granted, he couldn’t speak at the time. But surely he could have written it down for him during the day if need be. Was the way to break the magic, to undo it’s influence, to first know what it did?

The thought alone sent a chill up his spine. He glanced to where Anthony sat in the darkness. 

“Anthony, I think I figured it out,” he said softly.

Aziraphale heard Anthony’s breath hitch. Aziraphale reached for Anthony’s hand blindly in the dark. He patted around for it awkwardly before he felt Anthony slip his hand into his. The touch was warm, and it gave him courage. 

“Anthony, I know how to undo the magic,” he breathed. 

Anthony squeezed his hand in encouragement. 

“I broke your spell when I knew you couldn’t speak because of it,” he said slowly. “And I learned your name only after I thought of it first. That means, if I know what the magic is doing, then, maybe it can be undone?”

Anthony let out a laugh sharp with relief. It eased Aziraphale’s heart to hear it.

“Yesss, Angel, you’re so clever.” Anthony breathed. “I should never have doubted you.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale blushed at the compliment. “That still means I have quite a lot of work to do.” 

“I’m not worried,” Anthony said. “Because I know you can do it.”

Aziraphale flushed, a pleasant warm feeling spreading through his chest.

“Yes, well, I’m happy I can finally hear your voice,” he confessed. “I’m glad we can get to know each other better.”

“Of course Angel,” Anthony agreed but to Aziraphale’s ears it sounded more subdued.

“Anthony, is something the matter?” Aziraphale asked 

“What, oh no of course not,” Anthony insisted. “Nothings wrong Angel, just a bit of a uh, trying night is all,” he said.

“If you say so,” Aziraphale said, still unconvinced.

Aziraphale heard the bed shift again in the darkness as Anthony lay down to sleep by his side.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered,” Anthony said. “I think I’ll turn in.”

“Oh, yes of course,” Aziraphale said with a frown. 

He lay down to sleep as well. Truthfully he wasn’t tired at all. He was wide awake from the adrenaline of all of the nights revelations.

“Goodnight Angel,” Anthony said.

“Erm, goodnight.” Aziraphale said.

The room went silent. Aziraphale lay down on Anthony’s side of the bed, inhaling his scent on his pillow, and failing to fall asleep. Aziraphale felt his face warm as he lay in bed, listening to Anthony's breath slowly even out into sleep. No matter how much he tried to chalk it up to paranoia, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that he missed something very important. And much like his forgotten memories, the more he tried to grasp what it might be, the further it drifted away from him.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale skipped most of his morning routine the next morning after waking early after a night of poor sleep. Anthony’s side of the bed was empty once again when he woke. It hurt to see it empty. Call Aziraphale an old fool, but he had hoped after last night Anthony might have felt confident enough to stick around. He rolled out of bed and dressed blindly in warm clothing, wincing at the chill in the air when he left the covers. He could hear the steady sound of rain out in the hall through the cracked door way.

He felt a little bit better after eating the scrumptious breakfast of sausage and eggs Anthony had left for him. It was still warm when Aziraphale had sat down to eat, and helped to chase away the chill. Presumably due to the wonderful magic Anthony wielded. Aziraphale sighed and sipped his tea idly. The air inside the kitchen was cool from the rain outside. The fire in the hearth roared warmed the room, but Aziraphale still shivered in his brown woolen jumper. Old houses kept cold like nothing else.

Aziraphale finished his tea and quickly gave up on the thought of going through the garden. Even if the weather had been more agreeable he would have skipped it, for he had more important work to do. Aziraphale poured a second cup of tea and put out the fire in the kitchen. Magically made or not, he didn’t fancy burning the manor down. 

Aziraphale shuffled through the hallway down to the library. The air was cold, and the wind howled, rattling the windows. He held his mug of tea in both hands, warming them from the cold. Despite making this trek many times now, something felt different this time. Aziraphale stopped in place and glanced about the hallway. Now that he thought about it, it did look different than before.

Before, the wallpaper was peeled and yellowed with age. Now, it looked brand new. Where before Aziraphale could scarcely make out the pattern beneath the grime and the weathered stains, now he could clearly make out the color of blushing pink roses with vibrant green stems among a soft cream background. 

Aziraphale looked around the room wildly and noticed similar changes. Where before the windows were cloudy with grime, they now gleamed, despite the fog and rain outside. None of them were broken anymore either. The shutters did not hang from the hinges, or were collapsed completely abandoned on the ground, instead, the dark wood shone, as if someone had rubbed a strong varnish into them. 

Aziraphale glanced at the carpet beneath his feet and found the same result. Instead of being greyed with age, it looked as if someone had installed a completely new carpet. The pattern was a bright red and gold, with swirling lily and fern patterns. Looking around the hallway, it was as if Aziraphale had stepped back in time when the manor was newly furnished and at its peak. 

‘Anthony’s work, no doubt,’ he thought, taking a careful sip of his tea before continuing on his way to the library. 

He walked into the library with purpose. He sat his mug of tea on the nearest surface and got straight to work. He skimmed the titles of books, pulling anything that might be useful. He skimmed glossaries and the back covers of books in order to find what he might need. Quickly, large towers of books occupied one of the libraries oak wood tables, as Aziraphale methodically went through as many shelves as he could. 

Eventually, the stack of books grew so large Aziraphale had to stop. He had barely finished the first few rows of one of the libraries many bookshelves, but it would have to do for now. He rummaged around for a pen and a stack of blank sheaves of paper. 

He sat at the long oak table on a single plush chair and began to read. He took the first book he set aside and flipped through it. It was another dictionary. He flipped through it to the first word that he thought of, the word that started it all, and copied the definition down on the top of his paper.

‘Magic: An Extraordinary power or influence, seemingly form a supernatural source.’

He underlined the word ‘influence’ for good measure before continuing. He flipped to another word in the dictionary, read it and wrote down the definition as well. 

‘Witchcraft: the practice of magic, especially black magic, the use of spells.’

By the words black magic, Aziraphale drew a question mark atop of it and continued.

Underneath witchcraft, Aziraphale wrote down the book’s next definition.

‘Curse: A solemn utterance intended to invoke a supernatural power to invoke harm or punishment.’

Aziraphale circled the word punishment on the parchment and placed a question mark next to it as well. On the next line he wrote in order, ‘influence, black magic, and punishment.’

He tapped his chin with his pen thoughtfully, biting his lip in concentration. Whatever this magic on the manor was, on Anthony, it certainly seemed to be the ill sort. Aziraphale closed the dictionary and placed it to the side within easy reaching distance. He grabbed the next book in the pile, a book about the historical definition of witchcraft. Aziraphale read carefully through this book for some time, reading about how anxieties about the devil or demonic magic affected christian society in Europe and a few other places around the world. 

Aziraphale paid close attention to the chapter about witchburnings and witch hunts in Europe between the 15th and 17th centuries. He frowned as the book detailed innocent victims to small minded prejudice and hatred, the victims of said burnings typically those on the fringe of society at the time.

Aziraphale read through the book cover to cover, speed reading parts he deemed not as useful. It was informative in a general sense, but didn’t offer him many solutions to breaking any actual spells. Aziraphale spent the rest of the day flipping through books, trying to understand something he didn’t know how to comprehend. It was like trying to find the answer to a riddle he didn’t know the words too.

Before he knew it, his tea had grown cold and the sun sank low in the sky. He had gone through a little over half of the books that he had pulled from the shelves and had dozens of sheets of notes as effort for his work. Most had been historical accounts of magic throughout the years in various countries, but all were scholarly in nature. Some of the books had been more informative than others, but none were exactly a witch’s book of spells and curses.

Aziraphale rubbed his eyes tired, strained from use and winced at the sharp crick in his neck. He sat up from his chair stiffly, his back sore from being slumped in place for so long. He took his time stretching his body and took a sip of his now cold tea, mostly finished. He winced at the temperature and sighed.

Aziraphale took time to put the books he was finished with back in their proper places on the shelves before leaving the library. He scooped up his now empty mug of tea and headed back towards the kitchen. The rain had mostly let up after pouring for the better part of the day. Outside was still cold grey with mist, and it didn’t show any sign of lifting any time soon.

It felt colder now than it did earlier with the lowering of the sun. The library was drafty, with its large windows, empty space, and lack of a fireplace. Aziraphale shivered in his jumper and resolved to bring a blanket or two with him tomorrow. He entered the kitchen, and sighed at the sight before him. On the table was a large bowl of soup and a loaf of bread. He quickly rinsed his mug in the sink and sat down to eat his meal with gratitude. The bread was warm, as if freshly baked, and the soup was a lovely vegetable assortment that helped warm his cold and tired body.

Aziraphale finished his dinner and sighed aloud in contentment. After cleaning his dishes, he left the kitchen and walked towards the sitting room. He still had some time before nightfall, and he thought that relaxing in front of the fire and listening to some music might help him wind down.

As he walked down the hall, he heard soft music play. He neared the sitting room and heard the soft singing voice of a woman and a low bass play. Curiosity overtaking him, Aziraphale picked up his pace. The sound grew louder as he approached the doorway to the room, and he peered inside. The fire in the hearth was already lit on the other end of the room, warming the area.

Aziraphale’s heart raced as he the words of the woman singing echoed through the room. He took another step inside and looked around carefully. The chaise lounge he laid in the other night had been moved to face the fire, and it faced away from the entrance entirely.

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad, in the stillness of remembering,' The woman from the record sang. 

He had never seen Anthony’s face before. He only had his voice, and the feel of his warm touch in the cover of darkness. And now, suddenly, he might finally meet him properly.

Aziraphale approached the lounge with caution. He went to speak, but found the words die in his throat. 

'In the stillness of remembering, what you had.'

He would very much like to know him.

'And what you lost.'

He didn’t dare make a sound, for fear of startling him. Aziraphale kept his steps light as he drew closer.

'And what you had, and what you lost.'

Aziraphale took a deep breath and peered over the headrest of the lounge and looked down. His heart stuttered at the sight. There, curled on the chaise lounge was not Anthony, but the serpent from the garden. It was curled up under a heavy wool throw, it’s body entirely covered, saved for it’s head and a bit of its tail.

Aziraphale froze as it opened it’s golden eyes lazily at him, before closing them once more. The woman on the record finished her song, and the record made a crackling noise for a long moment before restarting.

‘Right, sorry to trouble you,’ he said turning to move away.

A low hissing noise stopped him in his tracks. He looked slowly over his shoulder to see the serpent gazing at him again. It’s eyes were intent on him. Aziraphale watched as it coiled itself more tightly under the blanket. It raised his head from the blanket and looked expectantly at the now empty side of the lounge.

“Oh, right,” Aziraphale said. 

He gingerly sat down on the lounge. Beside him, the serpent laid it’s head back down on top of its body and closed its eyes. 

Aziraphale sunk into the well used cushions of the lounge, and enjoyed the warmth of the fire on his face. The record looped again, the woman’s voice pleasing on his ears as the rain picked up once more. The shadows on the walls grew longer as the sun finally began to set. Aziraphale had worked his way into a light doze, before snuffling awake at a gentle tap on his side. He looked down to the serpent gazing at him again. It’s golden eyes glowed with the light from the fire. For the first time, Aziraphale couldn’t find it in him to be afraid.

“Off to bed then?” he asked.

The serpent nodded in response. For once, Aziraphale didn’t think it too strange that it could understand him. Everything was possible in a house like this. Aziraphale stood up from the lounge and rubbed the dull ache out of his lower back.

“Goodnight then,” he said to the serpent, before going off to bed.

He fell asleep quickly that night after a quick wash and change into soft warm sleepwear, good for a cold night. He awoke to Anthony climbing into bed and sat up, fighting to remain awake. The rain was still pouring, Aziraphale could hear it even muffled through the strong wood of the door. 

Anthony collapsed bonelessly into bed, judging by the strong shift in the mattress. Aziraphale shuffled over to help him climb underneath the covers. Anthony sighed deeply, and the bed ceased it’s movement.

“Long day dear?” he asked.

“Yesss,” Anthony pouted, or at least Aziraphale imagined he did. “All of this blasted cold.” 

“You must be exhausted then, perhaps I should start a fire?” Aziraphale wondered. He didn’t remember how to start a fire, especially in the pitch dark, but it was terribly drafty in the house. He worried the extra blanket he threw over the bed before night fell might not be enough to keep the chill away.

“No.” Anthony said.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s alright I can-”

“I said no Angel,” Anthony said coldly.

Aziraphale froze at the tone and wilted. “Okay,”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t need to snap at you,” Anthony apologized quickly. “Ignore my foul temper.” 

“It’s fine,” Aziraphale said. “Why don’t we get some rest?”

Anthony seemed to agree, as he didn’t say anything more. The sound of rain pounding against the roof was soothing, even if the air was too cold inside. After Anthony had entered bed, the space beneath the covers began to warm. Aziraphale huddled beneath the blankets, savoring the warmth. The sound of rain and Anthony’s quiet breaths soothed him, and before he knew it, he had fallen into a heavy sleep.

***

When Aziraphale woke up the next morning, the room was ice cold. Anthony had left the room, and it was mostly dark in the weak early morning light. Aziraphale lay underneath the covers for some time, not wanting to leave the small pocket of warmth. Eventually, he knew he had to get up if he wanted to get anything done. He winced as he gingerly pulled the covers off of him. He shivered in the cool air, wincing as his bare feet hit the cold floor. He shuffled quickly to the closet, pulling on some of the warmest clothes he could find, starting with thick wool socks. 

Breakfast later was warm croissants with butter, and hot cocoa that was delightfully warm and sweet. He went to the library and grabbed as many books as he could carry from the pile he set aside the day before and headed straight for the living room. The rain had still not let up, and the chill in the manor would not go away. He struggled not to drop any of his books as he shuffled down the hallway. Aziraphale cracked the door open with one foot, the stack of books in his arms wobbling dangerously. He moved quickly to the table in the middle of the room, easing his burden gratefully. 

The fireplace was already lit, and the room was warm and pleasant. He turned, intent on closing the door to keep the heat in the room and spotted a gleam of red in the corner of his eye. There laying on the lounge, still pulled close to the fireplace, was the serpent. 

The lounge had moved again, facing the window to the room instead of the fire. Rain pounded against the glass as the wind rattled the glass windows. It looked up at him curiously, and then looked at the pile of books laying haphazardly on the table. 

“Just a bit of research,” Aziraphale said. He closed the door to the room and moved back towards the table. He picked up the closest book and held it up. “If we’re both going to be stuck here for a while, we might as well figure out how this place works,” 

The serpent straightened, slithering onto the armrest of the lounge and peered more closely. 

“Oh this? Aziraphale asked. “Here, just a moment.”

Aziraphale placed the book back down and moved to the other side of the table. He pushed it, moving it closer to the fire, and placing it next to the lounge.

“There,” he said. “Figured you wouldn’t like to be away from the fire.”

The serpent looked up at him, and then down at the book. It slithered down from the lounge onto the table. Aziraphale watched as it poked around his stack of books and leaned curiously down on the one he placed earlier.

“The Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece and Rome,” Aziraphale read to him, unsure if it could read or not. 

The serpent looked up at him, hissing out its tongue.

“I know it’s not exactly a book of spells, ” Aziraphale explained. “But it’s the best I could find so far. There uh, isn’t a book of witchcraft or the like in the library is there?” he asked hopefully.

The serpent shook its head, causing Aziraphale’s heart to sink in his chest. “I thought not,” he sighed. “Still, it helps to keep an open mind.” 

He contemplated reading on the lounge, but dismissed the thought, remembering his sore back from the few times he lay on it. As he was contemplating dragging a chair and writing desk from the library, when a low hissing noise caught his attention. He glanced down at the serpent, now moving from the table and lowering itself onto the floor. It hissed again, slithering to the other side of the room.

Aziraphale blinked. His eyes followed its course and spotted a chair tucked into the other corner of the room, close to a large arched window. Aziraphale walked closely behind the serpent and glanced at the chair. It was a large queen anne style chair made of smooth brown leather and a comfortable looking tartan throw over it. The serpent turned to look at him expectantly and turned back towards the chair again.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”

He went to move the chair across the room, closer to his books and the fire, and glanced out the arched window. The living room overlooked a large portion of the garden. Even with pounding rain that made it difficult to see, Aziraphale could still make out the shape of the hedge maze and surrounding flower plots of the garden. 

“Lovely view. Shame about the rain though,” Aziraphale said to the serpent. “Hopefully it’ll let up soon.”

The serpent hissed again. It slithered back towards the fire on the other side of the room, and climbed back onto the lounge. Aziraphale dragged the chair and blanket back towards the farther side of the room, taking care to position it well near the table of books and warmth of the fire. Once he was satisfied, he settled into the chair. Unlike the lounge, the leather had not been broken in by the weight of someone else’s body, the cushions still firm, yet soft beneath him.

Aziraphale eagerly cracked open his book and began to read. He took notes every now and again as he slowly worked through the tome, a large detailed account of various greek and roman myths and legends, with scholarly accounts of various iterations. Some were more useful than others. He focused specifically on tales that dealt with some sort of curse and punishment, usually by the Gods to punish foolhardy mortals. He especially winced at the account of the blameless princess Andromeda, chained to be devoured by a foul beast due to the boasting of her mother. 

Aziraphale read the entirety of the book as the hours flew by, finally finishing around mid afternoon. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, leaning heavily back into his seat. He took pages of notes on each myth but he didn’t think it would do much good. All he really gleaned was that the gods were terrible to poor unsuspecting mortals, who might have done wrong sometimes, but certainly didn’t deserve their grim fates. 

The fire had gone down some as time went on, and the rain had finally slowed outside. Aziraphale hoped that it would stay that way. He was beginning to tire of rain. The serpent continued to snooze on the lounge when he got up to stretch. Aziraphale didn’t blame him. He was feeling exhausted himself.

Aziraphale left the living room, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. His mind felt heavy and frazzled from all of the reading. The rain might have stopped, but the air in the manor was still cool. Aziraphale shuffled down the hallway, already missing the warmth of the fire. He entered the bedroom and sighed at the unlit fireplace. He shouldn’t depend on Anthony’s magic to do everything for him.

He moved closer to the fireplace and looked to see if there were any kindling or matches nearby. He looked on the shelf above it and the empty grate, but there wasn’t a log or match in sight. Aziraphale frowned, and shivered in the cold. There was nothing else for it, he’d have to ask Anthony to magic him some supplies next time.

Aziraphale kicked off his shoes and threw himself into bed, huddling under the covers. The sheets were cool around him, having not been warmed yet. Aziraphale curled up, creating his own pocket of warmth, and closed his eyes. His head throbbed from all of the reading. The wind rattled the windows out in the hallway, and slowly, Aziraphale fell asleep.

Aziraphale woke in the pitch darkness, feeling Anthony enter the bed. The rain had started up again while he was asleep, making the room even colder. Aziraphale shivered and inched just a little bit closer to Anthony to gain some heat.

“Long day?” Anthony asked.

Aziraphale groaned in response.

“Get some rest Angel,” he said gently. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes at the gentle tone of his voice and again, he was lulled to sleep.

***

Aziraphale woke the next morning alert and ravenous. He blinked at the warm sunlight filtering into the room. He sat up in bed and blinked owlishly. It took a few moments for his brain to process what he was seeing. He threw the covers off of him and ran outside the bedroom to the windows in the hallway. The sun was shining outside, and even in the early morning, the air was much warmer than it had been the day before. Bright sunlight glowed outside before Aziraphale’s eyes. Birds were chirping loudly in the early morning light. Aziraphale spotted one bright red robin fly from one tree branch to another, watching as it hid amongst thick leaves and branches.

Aziraphale smiled at the sight. He dressed quickly and hummed to himself as he walked to the kitchen for breakfast. Breakfast consisted of a hearty eggs, sausage, and ham with a side of toast warmed and waiting for him. Aziraphale ate his fill and cleaned his plate quickly, eager to get some fresh air. Aziraphale breathed in deeply when he entered the garden, taking in the crisp air and smell of flowers.

He leisurely wandered the garden, enjoying the good weather. He paced down narrow cobbled paths and ran his hands through the hydrangea and lavender that lined the pathway. He sat on the bench near the pond. The family of ducks were back skirting around the pond. Aziraphale watched them for the better part of an hour, enjoying the feel of soft breeze on his face.

He spent the better part of the morning and afternoon wandering about the garden, only taking a break to go inside to eat a quick lunch. He discovered new flower beds of dahlias and tiger lilies. He paused in front of one empty plot and inspected it closely. It was composed only of dirt and stone that outlined the plot and separated it from any encroaching plant life. 

Aziraphale heard a low hissing sound to his right and turned. He saw the serpent crawling out of the tiger lillies. It slithered closer to Aziraphale and tilted its head at him.

“Oh, hello! Enjoying the sunlight are we?” Aziraphale asked. 

The serpent stuck out its tongue at him in response. Aziraphale laughed. 

“So am I,” he admitted. “Sunshine always feels so lovely after rain.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sunlight. It felt warm and pleasant on his face. He could see the bright reds and yellows flickering by beneath his eyelids in a kaleidoscope of color. 

He heard another low hissing noise to his side. He glanced down at the serpent again. The upper half of its body was raised upwards, it’s head just shy of his shoulder. Aziraphale blinked at its closeness, but for once, did not feel an ounce of fear. The serpent’s head was turned towards him and gazed upwards. The sunlight glittered among the gold of its eyes.

“What do you suppose this is for?” Aziraphale asked, gesturing towards the empty plot. 

The serpent tilted its head again.

“Not sure either?” Aziraphale wondered, turning back towards the empty plot. “I’m sure Anthony will figure out something beautiful, as always.” 

He glanced again at the serpent at his side. It ducked his head hissing lowly again. 

“I wish I knew how to grow something,” Aziraphale admitted. “This garden is so lovely, it’d be nice to, I don’t know, have a small part in it.”

The serpent hissed again. It lowered it’s upper body towards the ground and moved about the plot. Aziraphale watched it poke around the loose dirt. It took him awhile to realize that the creature was making loose rows with the length of his body. Aziraphale watched as it worked, amazed as it plotted out rows of dirt into neat strips. Eventually it slithered back to Aziraphale, dirt sticking to its body in uneven clumps.

“Oh you poor dear,” Aziraphale clucked at the creature. “You’re very sweet. Let's turn in and get cleaned up, shall we?” 

The serpent nodded in response as they headed back inside the manor. Aziraphale entered through the back door of the kitchen with the serpent trailing behind him. Clumps of dry dirt fell from its body and onto the floor. Aziraphale made a mental note to sweep it up later.

“Shall I draw a bath?” Aziraphale asked.

The serpent tilted its head as if in thought before nodding its head. 

They left the kitchen and entered through the hallway. Aziraphale winced as more clumps of dirt fell onto the carpet. They made their way into the bathroom in the master suite. Aziraphale turned the tap as hot water. As the pipes rattled and groaned, Aziraphale tested the temperature of the water with his hand. It wasn’t too hot, a pleasant heat that was more to Aziraphale’s tastes. 

“Is this temperature okay?” he asked.

The serpent raised its upper body into a full upright position, matching Aziraphale’s own height. It ducked its head under the spray. It pulled its head out of the stream of water and looked at Aziraphale expectantly.

“Too hot?” Aziraphale guessed.

The serpent shook its head quickly. It didn’t have any discernible facial expressions that Aziraphale could glean but he got the sense that it was distinctly put out. 

“Too cold then,” Aziraphale reasoned. 

He played with the taps some more making the stream of water significantly hotter. Testing it with his hand, he found it almost scalding. He watched anxiously as the serpent tested the water again with its head. It pulled back and looked at him seeming more pleased giving a small nod. 

Aziraphale let the tub continue to fill, placing the stopper through the drain. Hot steam began to fill the room. 

“Anything else?” Aziraphale asked.

The serpent looked pointedly at the cabinet that held the bath soaps. He opened the cabinet and grabbed the nearest bottle. It appeared to be a rose scented bath soap, judging by its light pink color and smell. The serpent wiggled with excitement as Aziraphale placed a generous amount of soap under the stream of water. 

Rosy pink suds filled the tub. After some time, Aziraphale shut off the tap. The serpent slithered into the sub, sloshing water and some suds onto the floor. Aziraphale went over to another cabinet and took a generous amount of fluffy white towels. He placed a few on the floor near the tub, soaking up the water fell onto the floor, and placed a clear pile further away for easy reach.

“I’ll just leave you to it then,” Aziraphale smiled as he watched the serpent roll around in the suds. 

He left the door cracked for the serpent to go through later and headed to the library. He still had work to do after all, as lovely as it was being outside again. Aziraphale spent the rest of the day doing research in the library, pausing only to swing by the living room and take some of his books and notes now that the weather had turned. He scoured his books for any mention of magic, reading about different fairytales and myths. One that interested him greatly was a story about a princess cursed to be a swan by day only to become human again at night. 

Aziraphale read the entire story in one sitting, getting all the way to the bittersweet ending. He frowned as both lovers died tragically at the end, reunited again only after death. It was a lovely story, if a bit morbid for his tastes. The lovers had come so far only to have it end tragically. Aziraphale liked a sad tale or two every now and again, but this one put a small sense of unease in his heart. 

By the time he was done, the sun began to set. He closed the book and organized his notes. He stopped by the kitchen and ate a quick meal of orange glazed salmon with brown rice and roast vegetables. The sun had nearly finished setting by the time he was done. The light in the manor became dark and the shadows grew long.

Aziraphale hurried to the master bedroom. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into his nightclothes in the fading light from the cracked open door. As always, it was if a switch had flipped when he settled into bed. One moment he was wide awake, the next he was fatigued and eager to sleep. Aziraphale let the sensation carry him as he closed his eyes.

***

Aziraphale woke to the feeling of Anthony settling into bed. He looked over to his side in the darkness, his heart racing in anticipation.

“Hello,” Aziraphale greeted. “Weather finally cleared up,” 

“I know, it feels nice,” 

“Enjoy any of the sun?” He asked.

“Oh yes,” Anthony said.

“I was in the garden for most of the day today, I don’t think I saw you?” 

Anthony fell silent at the comment. Aziraphale cursed himself for pushing him too hard.

“But forget about that,” Aziraphale said, waving away his comment with a flick of his hand. “I wanted to ask you about the empty plot in the garden.” 

“Oh?” Anthony said.

“Yes, you weren’t er, planning anything in particular there were you?” 

“Not particularly,” Anthony admitted.

“Well, I think I wanted to try my hand at it. Gardening, I mean.” Aziraphale said.

“Is that right?” Anthony asked with a smile in his voice.

“I really don’t know much about it,” Aziraphale admitted. “But if I can learn to be half the gardener you are, well, it would be nice is all to help something grow.” 

“I’ll teach you,” Anthony said. 

“Will you really?” Aziraphale asked.

“Of course,” Anthony said. “I’ll teach you everything I know.” 

Aziraphale blushed at the sincerity of his voice. “Well I’m eager to start,” he admitted. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Anthony said nothing for a long moment before answering. “I’ll see you tomorrow Angel.” 

Aziraphale smiled at the promise. They stayed up a bit later, plotting out the layout for the garden. Aziraphale decided on a vegetable garden. Plants suited best for springs like peas, spinach, beets, tomatoes, and potatoes to start. Aziraphale smiled as he listened to Anthony talk about proper plotting and planting techniques. It felt so good just to hear Anthony speak. He would never tire of the sound of his voice.


	6. Chapter 6

Anthony had told him that the cold weather would kill the seedlings before they began to grow, and per his instructions, Aziraphale waited a week or so to work in the garden until the weather warmed. After days of fruitless research and wandering about the garden, the weather finally took a turn.

Aziraphale woke early one morning among the weak sunlight, sweating underneath his heavy comforter. He cast it off the bed and folded it, placing it at the foot of the bed to be put away later. He dressed in simple, easy to dirty clothes and ate a quick breakfast of porridge and fruit. By the time he made his way to the garden, the air was warm and the sun had risen in the sky. He hurried to the small plot of land that Anthony had prepped the day before for him, although Aziraphale hadn’t seen him do it.

The plot had been prepared based on what he would plant. Half of the plot had been set aside for the vegetables, like beets and peas, that would prefer cooler weather. Anthony said that he would have to plant the other seeds, like tomatoes, later in the season, as they needed slightly warmer weather to start. He told Aziraphale he’d set aside all of the tools he needed when the weather finally turned. It warmed Aziraphale’s heart to know that Anthony was being so supportive of his new hobby, and it made Aziraphale feel a little bit closer to him too. 

The serpent had joined him shortly after he reached the garden plot. It rolled lazily in the grass, looking up at Aziraphale. Aziraphale waved as it approached. The serpent looked pointedly to the brown packets of seeds, a few burlap sacks, and some gardening tools neatly placed on the side of the plot.

“What shall we plant first?” Aziraphale asked.

The serpent poked its nose at the brown paper bags of seeds neatly labeled in Anthony’s elegant script. It flicked it tongue at the packet labeled beets. Aziraphale took the packet and moved to the portion of the plot Anthony had set aside for them. The serpent watched closely as Aziraphale placed down a towel on the ground to kneel on and put on the gardening gloves Anthony had made for him. 

The seeds looked like small clumps of dirt or chocolate, much smaller than Aziraphale’s fingernail. He began preparing the soil for planting, watering the dirt gently with a watering can, breaking up the dry earth. He made small incisions in the ground with his shovel only half an inch deep, each seed separated by a few inches in between for space to grow. 

It didn’t take him long to go through all of the beet seeds and plant them carefully in the ground. Soon enough the small corner of the plot had been successfully planted. Anthony said it would only take two weeks for them to sprout from the ground, but already Aziraphale wished he could watch them grow. 

He moved onto the next batch of pea seeds beneath the newly planted beets. The seeds were significantly larger, and a bit wrinkled looking. Aziraphale planted each seed about two inches between each other and one inch deep. He made sure each row had a generous amount of space between them to give the plant room to grow. Aziraphale hummed as he worked, planting row after row of pea seeds until all of them were gone. After planting, he took his watering can and watered the area thoroughly. Anthony said it would take a little over three weeks for them to sprout. 

After the peas, Aziraphale took a break from gardening for a bit, returning to the kitchen to rinse his hands and get himself a cool drink of water. After enjoying his short rest, he went out back outside to see the serpent snoozing in the grass next to the garden. The sun had risen quite a bit in the few hours Aziraphale had took to plant his seeds. Aziraphale smiled at it as he approached, and in a surprising moment of boldness, gently patted its head.

The serpent lazily opened its eyes for a moment, before closing them again. Its tongue came out briefly to lick Aziraphale’s hand as he gently stroked its smooth skin. Aziraphale laughed at the touch, giving the serpent one final pat before going back to his work in the garden. 

Beneath the peas Aziraphale planted spinach seeds, surprisingly small little things, about a half an inch deep two inches apart from each seed. Like the peas, he made sure each row had about a foot of space between them and watered them well. He planted the rest of the seeds until reaching the wooden barrier at the end of the plot. Anthony said that Aziraphale could harvest the spinach as shortly as five weeks after planting, but he could wait a few more weeks if he really wanted larger plants to harvest. 

By now, a little less than half of the plot had been taken up by his planting. Aziraphale wiped sweat from his brow and stood up, his knees creaking as he went. He had been hunched over planting for some time. He still didn’t know what to plant in the center of the plot. He would use the upper half of the other side for his potatoes, but there was still the thin sliver of dirt separating the two to account for.

Aziraphale used a shovel at first to loosen up the dirt, and when that was done, sprinkled a bit of fertilizer Anthony had set aside over the top. Then he made a few rows of shallow trenches, about four inches deep, with about two feet in between each row. Aziraphale rummaged through the burlap sacks lined up on the side of the plot, mostly extra soil and fertilizer, before finding the potato seeds.

The seeds were less seeds, and more fully grown potatoes with spindly roots sticking out of them. They were on the smaller side, but Anthony had assured them that even one of them would sprout plenty more. He made sure to plant each one about one foot apart, with the sprouted part of the potato facing upwards. After all of the digging and planting, Aziraphale covered each row with soil, and watered the plants with a generous amount of water.

The potatoes alone took up a good section of the plot of land. Aziraphale sighed when his work was finally done, shaking loose dirt from his trousers and putting his supplies away neatly. Maybe he could ask Anthony to magic him a garden shed later that night. It would be nice to have somewhere to store his things when he was done using them, instead of presumably being summoned in and out of existence as needed. 

“What do you think, a garden shed would be lovely wouldn’t it?” he asked the serpent by his side.

The animal looked lazily back up at him and nodded its head. 

Aziraphale washed up in the kitchen sink and ate the roast beef sandwiches Anthony had set aside for him in the ice box. He washed it down with some water and spent the rest of the day in the library. He paged through book after book, taking notes every now and again but as the sun set that evening, he felt none the better for it. 

Aziraphale sighed in frustration, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He wished he knew how to break the spell keeping them trapped in the chateau, but it’s not like there was a book on spell craft or curses lying about. Aziraphale grumbled to himself. He got up from his chair and winced at the soreness in his knees. Kneeling down hunched over in the garden had left him a bit sore, but a nice hot bath later should do the trick.

Aziraphale ate a lovely dinner of roast chicken with a side of roasted vegetables and a lovely glass of wine. Dinner was as scrumptious as always, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but wish Anthony would join him every now and again. Aziraphale knew that Anthony appreciated his privacy, but he liked to think they had gotten a bit closer over these past few weeks. He wouldn’t mind sharing his company a bit more. 

Aziraphale cleaned up the remains of dinner, feeling a bit dejected. Every time he tried to bring up spending time with Anthony during the day, he was quietly rebuffed. Even if Aziraphale brought it up that night, it wouldn’t really do him any good. Aziraphale sighed heavily after finishing up the dishes. There was nothing else for it, Anthony would open up to him in his own time. No sense in rushing him.

Aziraphale tried to shake the morose thoughts out of his mind. A nice bath would do to chase them away and soothe the tired aches of his body. He hadn’t had a relaxing bath in a while, opting instead of scrub and rinse off quickly in the tub as of late. 

Aziraphale ran the tap with hot water and added a calming lavender bath soap to the running water. He didn’t recall cleaning up the bathroom after the serpent had used it, but everything was immaculate when he stepped in. Anthony’s work, no doubt. When the water had finally reached an acceptable level, Aziraphale took off his clothes and placed them in the hamper. He hoped Anthony knew how to use his magic to get rid of grass stains.

Aziraphale climbed into the tub, gingerly acclimating to the water. He sighed deeply when he was fully submerged, the hot water doing wonders for his tired body. Aziraphale spent a good deal of time soaking in the tub, before washing his hair and scrubbing his body down. By the time the water was starting to cool, his hands were wrinkled and pruned. Aziraphale drained the tub and dried off, feeling much more relaxed. He dressed into some night clothes and climbed into bed. By this point the sun was nearly entirely set. Aziraphale climbed into bed and settled under the covers, and by the time his head hit the pillow, he was already half asleep.

***

Aziraphale woke up as usual to Anthony climbing into the bed. He turned to face him in the darkness. 

“Do you think the garden will come along well?” Aziraphale asked. “I hope I did everything right.”

“It’ll be just fine Angel. I saw it earlier, it looks good.” 

Aziraphale beamed with pride at Anthony’s compliment. 

“It’s only really because you taught me how,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

Anthony hummed in response.

“What did you do today anyway?” Aziraphale asked, unable to ignore his curiosity. He often wondered what Anthony did during the day when he couldn’t see him.

“I was looking over the roses,” Anthony answered. “They’ve been misbehaving.”

“Oh you were in the garden today?” Aziraphale asked, surprised. 

“All day,” Anthony replied.

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat knowing that Anthony had been in the garden around the same time he had been. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask him to stop by and help him with the new garden plot, but Aziraphale held his tongue. Any questions like that wouldn’t do him any good.

“What do you mean by misbehaving?” he asked instead. 

“Some of the roses near the canopy walkway have developed spots." Anthony explained, but the way he said the word ‘spots’ might as well have been a curse for all of the contempt he put into the word.

“Oh, the poor things, will they be okay?” Aziraphale wondered aloud. 

“Yesss,” Anthony hissed, sounding pleased. “They know the consequences if they don’t shape up.” 

Aziraphale blinked at the choice of words. He felt a warm giddy sensation build up in his chest. He pressed his lips together to contain it, but he couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped.

“Are you laughing at me?” Anthony said immediately.

“N-no” Aziraphale denied, chuckling. “Okay yes, it’s just you were so serious. Do you always talk to your plants?” he asked. 

“Just enough so they know why they should grow properly,” Anthony answered.

Aziraphale chuckled again at the solemn tone of Anthony’s voice. “Maybe I should talk to my plants as well. Maybe it’ll help them grow better.” 

“I’m sure they will if you’re the one talking to them angel,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale flushed at the compliment. He and Anthony spent the rest of the night talking about his roses and the rest of the garden. How his little garden was coming along, and any signs of disease or ‘imperfections’ to look out for. Anthony advised a lot of threats and insults, as well as weeding out any diseased looking leaves or plants to keep the rest of the garden healthy. They talked well into the night, before Aziraphale called it quits when he found he could barely keep his eyes open. He fell asleep quickly and soundly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Aziraphale rose early again the next morning. He quickly freshened up and changed into suitable gardening clothes. Anthony had advised him to water the garden when the sun was still low, so the seeds could properly soak in the moisture before it evaporated in the warmth of the sun. He dressed quickly and hurried to the garden, resolving to eat breakfast when the work was done.

The sun was still rising in the sky as Aziraphale went through the kitchen door into the garden. He made a beeline for his new little garden, eager to check up on his plants. He stopped short, however, when it finally came into view. He gaped at the new addition made near it.

There, nestled in a free space between his plot and Anthony’s bed of tiger lily’s, was a brand new gardening shed, although the word shed was a bit of an understatement, for what it was. It was more like a small home. The shed was a pale green, with a slanted tile roof and large glass windows. Lace curtains moved gently in the wind, the windows open to let the breeze in. Aziraphale drew closer to inspect it. 

Underneath the windows was a painted white ledge, with small potted plants adorning it. There were purple and white impatiens, wet with dew, and glistening in the sunlight. The door had a wreath made of pale pink flowers and flexible twigs twisted together, and a small golden serpent motif slithered among it.

Aziraphale’s heart pounded as he took in the sight of the beautiful little cottage, thoroughly confused. He didn’t recall ever telling Anthony about wanting a gardening shed. He racked his brain over the long conversation he had with Anthony last night. After talking at length about the state of his garden and how to properly take care of it, requesting the garden shed for all of his supplies had entirely slipped his mind. But after cracking open the door of the shed and seeing all the various tools, gloves, and bags of mulch nestled neatly inside, everything he could have ever asked for was already there.

Aziraphale closed the door of the shed. His mind raced. Maybe Anthony had assumed he would need one after planning the garden? Still, no matter how much he explained it away in his mind, it still seemed as if Aziraphale was missing something.

He heard a rustling behind him and turned around. The serpent crawled out of the tiger lily bush, and looked up at Aziraphale.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this would you?” Aziraphale asked it, pointing towards the shed.

The serpent hissed at him, and nodded his head, before heading to the new garden bed. Aziraphale went back into the shed with an empty metal watering can. There was a small sink and pump inside the shed as well. He filled up the can nearly to the brim and went outside.

He watered the plants under the watchful eyes of the serpent, occasionally placing his finger beneath the soil to make sure the soil was damp enough for planting, but not over watered. Anthony instructed that on hotter days, especially when summer would approach, that he might have to re-water some of the plants later in the day. But that wouldn’t be for some time yet. 

After he watered the plants, and refilled the can at least once more before he was done. Aziraphale put the watering can away back inside of the shed, and set off for a walk in the garden. The serpent was sunning itself on the stone path that divided Aziraphale’s plot from the rest of the garden. He made care to step around it as he continued on. He took his time exploring new areas, as well as treading through well loved paths, but he just couldn’t get the thought of the shed out of his mind. 

After spending the better part of the morning in the garden and watching the family of ducks swim on the pond, Aziraphale went back into the house to eat some breakfast, a simple porridge with chopped fruit, and got back to work on his research. Aziraphale settled into his usual library chair and poured over a rather large tome on a collection of fairy tales.

He read about the twelve dancing princesses that wished to dance the night away from their terrible father that locked them in their room all night. He read about a princess that was enchanted to sleep for one hundred years after her parents gravely offended a powerful fairy, only to wake at true love's kiss. He read about a girl forced to be a servant in her own home, who one day was visited by a benevolent fairy that gifted her beautiful dresses and carriages, and eventually won the heart of a handsome prince. Aziraphale especially liked that tale. It conjured images of beautiful gowns and glass slippers, and it made him think of Anthony, who had conjured his lovely new wardrobe just for him.

He took notes dutifully as he went. He wrote down the word ‘magic’ and then underneath that the words ‘fairy,’ and ‘curse.’ He wrote a big question mark next to fairy, chewing his lip in concentration. Maybe Anthony had offended a fairy? Reading how powerful the dark fairy in the Sleeping Beauty story had been, Aziraphale hoped not. He wouldn’t know how to go about dealing with such a powerful creature. 

Aziraphale shuffled through his notes and read other stories. He skimmed through a few more. He read about a poor, ugly duckling, who found out, after a series of hardships, that he was actually a beautiful swan in the end. Aziraphale felt for the poor creature, and thought of his beloved family of ducks out on the pond, before he came across a truly intriguing story. 

He read about a poor merchant who lost his wealth to a terrible storm, and how he found an imposing castle to take shelter in. After dining at a fabulous banquet, he went to take a rose to give to his youngest daughter as a present, only to be stopped by a terrible beast. The beast demanded that his daughter live with him, as payment for her father’s transgression. The beautiful daughter aptly named Beauty, was forced to live in the enchanted castle with the beast. The beast gifted her beautiful clothing and food, and catered to her every whim, but after a time, she came to greatly miss her family. 

Beauty spent time with her family, longer than the beast allowed, and by the time she returned, she found him in the process of dying. Apparently, only her true love for him could break the curse placed on him by a vengeful fairy, and their time apart caused the curse to slowly consume him. Beauty confessed her love for the beast, who then transformed into a lovely prince, and they lived happily ever after.

Aziraphale read the tale once more, quickly taking notes. He wrote underneath curse, ‘transformation,’ and underneath that, ‘beast’. He wrote down underneath beast, ‘true love,’ and circled it for good measure. He frowned in concentration as he went, and flipped back through previous notes for good measure.

There was an insistent nagging thought at the back of his mind as he went. He read over his notes for the fairy tale he read the other day on the Swan Princess. There were notes on a magnificent transformation caused by a terrible curse, although the ending to that tale had been far more tragic.

Aziraphale looked closely at the notes he wrote for the Swan Princess myth, looking at the word ‘curse’ that he circled and the words, ‘animal transformation’, followed by ‘night’. He flipped back to his notes on Beauty and the Beast, reading over the words ‘curse,’ ‘beast’ and ‘transformation’ once more. His heart pounded in his chest as he flipped through the notes for both stories, before closing the book with a decisive ‘thump’.

He stood up from his chair and paced the floor of his reading nook. His mind raced with implications. A magical transformation, a curse to be an animal and a beast, a curse that took place only at night. Aziraphale thought about how he never saw Anthony during the day. He thought about how no matter how much he asked, Anthony could not speak of his curse. He thought of how Anthony refused to call the serpent in the garden a beast or a pet, and the strange relationship that Anthony couldn’t explain.

And finally, Aziraphale thought about a greenhouse appearing out of nowhere after forgetting to tell Anthony about it at night. But he had told someone, hadn’t he? 

With that thought in mind, Aziraphale tore out of the library, leaving his notes and books behind. He raced through the halls back into the kitchen, practically throwing the back door to the garden open. He ran back towards his new garden. The serpent was still snoozing in the sun, although it had moved a bit to chase the warmth of the moving sunlight.

Aziraphale stared at it’s beauty, his chest heaving with exertion. Memory or not, he got the feeling he wasn’t one for exercise. The serpent looked as lovely and powerful as ever, the muscles of its body rippling powerfully, as the full length of its body uncoiled in the soft grass of the garden. Aziraphale stared at the sun hitting its dark scales, the soft red of its belly turned toward the light and shimmered a ruby red.

“Anthony,” he whispered, his voice strained. 

The serpent shifted its position in the grass and slowly opened its eyes. It lazily lifted its head and turned it towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale didn’t know what expression might have been on his face, but the serpent seemed to leap to life, immediately casting off it’s lazy demeanor. Quick as a flash, it slithered up to Aziraphale.

Unlike before, Aziraphale felt no fear as it approached. All he could do was collapse to his knees at the weight of his revelation, cupping the face of the serpent delicately in his hands. The serpent seemed agitated as he did so, hissing in short bursts, flicking its tongue against Aziraphale’s hands.

“Oh Anthony,” Aziraphale whispered, his heart heavy in his chest. “What happened to you?”

The serpent reared its head back in alarm at Aziraphale’s solemn words. It’s upper body almost slumped before nuzzling it’s head back into Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale pet the scales of the serpent almost absentmindedly, his mind still numb with shock. They stayed like that for a long while, Aziraphale holding Anthony as gently as he could. Slowly, Aziraphale managed to come back to his senses. Anthony looked up at him with his bright gold eyes, and Aziraphale wondered if his eyes were so lovely in his human form. 

“Let’s go inside,” he whispered.

The serpent, Anthony, nodded in agreement, as they went back into the kitchen. Despite all of the excitement, Aziraphale found he didn’t have much of an appetite. He breezed through the kitchen and the hallway, with Anthony trailing behind him. Every now and again, Aziraphale would look behind him, as if to make sure he was still there. Anthony in serpent form looked worried, or as worried as a snake could be. His made low hissing sounds, his tail stretching out, and waving back and forth.

Aziraphale entered the sitting room and practically collapsed onto the lounge, his back twinging already at the uncomfortable angle. Anthony settled himself at the foot of the lounge, curling up on the rug near the fireplace. Aziraphale closed his eyes and rubbed them them together with his hand, feeling thoroughly exhausted already.

Suddenly, he felt a warmth on his skin. Light danced from beneath his eyelids. He opened his eyes and looked around. Where before, the fireplace had been unlit, now a low fire had suddenly sprang to life. Aziraphale gazed at the flames curiously, and then looked down at Anthony. Anthony gazed back up at him from his curled position on the rug, and if Aziraphale could put a word to his expression, it would be a concern.

“Did you light that?” he asked, gesturing to the fire.

Anthony hesitated, before nodding his head. 

Aziraphale felt a smile lift on his face. “You really are amazing Anthony.”

Anthony ducked his head almost bashfully at Aziraphale’s words. Aziraphale tried to settle back into the lounge, sighing all the while. The bottle of wine on the table from before was gone, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but mourn it’s loss. If there was any time for a drink, it was now. 

Aziraphale enjoyed the warmth of the fire for a while, before looking back at Anthony. 

“What are we going to do?” he asked. 

Anthony looked at him for a moment. He laid his head back down on his body, and closed his eyes. Aziraphale closed his eyes as well, shifting again, attempting to get comfortable on the lounge. The heat of the fire was soothing, despite the twinge in his lower back. He heard the screech of the record player start, and the low sounds of a guitar and steady drum beat. The guitar got more excited, and a man from the record began to sing.

Aziraphale listened to the beat of the song rush and then slow, like a tide rising and receding. He liked the strings, but the song was a little too much for his tastes. Near the end of the song, there was a screeching string that sounded almost like nails on a chalkboard. It almost gave him an acute sense of anxiety. He looked at Anthony curled in front of the fire, his tail flicking idly every now and again. He figured he could continue to listen to it. For Anthony’s sake. 

The song faded as another began on the record, then another. The following songs were more instrumental and slow. Aziraphale didn’t recognize any of them, but he enjoyed each one more than the last. After a few songs, Anthony summoned a chilled bottle of wine and clear crystal glass on the table, and looked at Aziraphale pointedly.

“Well alright then,” Aziraphale agreed, and he poured himself a glass.

The liquid was a pale pink, a rosé, judging by the lable on the bottle. It went down smoothly as he drank it. The chill was a pleasant contrast to the warmth of the fire. Song after song played as Aziraphale enjoyed glass after glass of wine. At one point he saw Anthony snake his tongue into a low dish of wine he made for himself.

“Is it safe for you to drink like that?” Aziraphale said.

Anthony tilted his head and flicked his tail idly, unbothered. Aziraphale shrugged, working his way into a comfortable haze. The room spun a bit and Aziraphale felt his anxious thoughts smooth over, a pleasant sleepiness overtaking him. Eventually it consumed him, and he closed his eyes settling into a light doze.

He woke later in the early evening well rested, his mind clearer than before. He smacked his lips, a bit parched. Anthony was still passed out in front of the fire, his shallow bowl empty in front of him. Aziraphale smiled at the sight. The situation might not be perfect, but he knew more now than he knew before. That had to count for something.

Aziraphale rose from the lounge and stretched out his aching back. He might have to ask Anthony to summon some painkillers for him later, after he got the alcohol thoroughly out of his system. 

Casting one last fond glance at Anthony, Aziraphale walked towards the kitchen, suddenly feeling ravenous. There wasn’t any food immediately on the table, but after rummaging around in the pantry and the icebox and finding them both fully stocked, Aziraphale figured he could fix his own supper for once. 

In the icebox, Aziraphale found a thick cut of roast beef, cut cheese, lettuce and red onion. In the pantry he found thick slices of bread, jars of mayonnaise and horseradish. Aziraphale hummed as he worked, layering slices of roast beef on the bread and spreading a generous amount of horseradish on top. He found a collection of sharp knives in one of the drawers near the sink and used one of them to neatly slice up the onion, his eyes stinging as he went.

After the onion was cut, he rinsed the knife and moved onto the tomato. It was a small little thing. He cut only a few layers, wrapping the rest in some paper he found in another drawer, and placed it back in the icebox. He put the rest of the sandwich together on a porcelain plate, and put all of the unneeded ingredients away. He poured himself a tall cool glass of water to soothe his parched throat and took his plate to the kitchen table. 

The first bite into the sandwich was heavenly. Aziraphale moaned at the taste. He ate the rest of the sandwich quickly, soothing his grumbling stomach. He patted it content after he ate, and washed the food down with the rest of his water. After cleaning up dinner, he peered back into the sitting room to see Anthony still curled up asleep at the fire. He smiled at the sight, leaving the door cracked open, before heading to the bedroom. He took his time bathing, taking advantage of the remaining light of the day, and cleaned his hair thoroughly. It was still light when he was done, his hair still damp even after he toweled it dry, and dressed for bed. 

Aziraphale collapsed into bed, no longer sleepy, but content to just lie down. He snuffled into the blankets. They felt warm against his skin. He hummed in content as he closed his eyes. There was so much he wanted to ask Anthony that night. So many questions he wanted answers too, even if he knew Anthony couldn’t answer them. Even if he wanted to. Questions like, how long have you been cursed? Or more importantly, who did this to you? 

He frowned at the thought, shifting his position in agitation. That was the real question that had been on Aziraphale’s mind. Who had done this to Anthony? Who cast this spell and all of the other spells over the manor? And why? Aziraphale frowned into his pillow. The only way he could get answers to any of them was to figure it out for himself so Anthony could tell him about it. But that didn’t comfort him either. 

For the first time since coming to the chateau, Aziraphale truly felt the weight of the responsibility that rested on his shoulders. As far as he knew, only by figuring out how the magic worked could he break the spell, and only he could do it. It was completely up to Aziraphale to break the curse. If he couldn’t find a way to break it, Anthony might be trapped in this house as a serpent forever. 

‘But, why me?’ Aziraphale wondered. 

What made him so special anyway?

He thought back to all of the stories he read earlier that day. How some of them like the poor swan princess ended in tears, but how others triumphed through love. True love even, could that be the key?

Aziraphale snorted at the thought. ‘Surely not,’ he thought, and drifted off to sleep.

***

Aziraphale jolted awake when Anthony slipped into bed that night.

“Anthony,” he breathed. 

“I’m here Angel,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale felt his eyes tear up at the sound of his voice. He was so inexplicably happy to hear it again, knowing what he knew now. The weight on the bed shifted towards him and suddenly, he felt himself drawn into Anthony’s embrace.

Aziraphale heart pounded as Anthony held him close to his chest, and felt him run a warm hand through his hair. Aziraphale felt hot tears spring up and he squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them. He buried his face into Anthony’s shoulder, and breathed heavily. 

“Don’t cry,” Anthony whispered, as he continued to run a hand through his hair. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” 

Aziraphale felt himself undone by Anthony’s soothing words. He cried and cried into his shoulder, hot tears streaming down his face. Anthony held him through it, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. It felt like a lifetime before the tears subsided. With a few more heaving breaths, Aziraphale’s sobs quieted. He felt rung out and worn from crying, and his face was sticky with drying tears.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Anthony’s shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Anthony soothed.

“No, it’s not!” Aziraphale snapped, suddenly leaning away from Anthony’s embrace. “It’s not okay! How could I not know it was you Anthony! How could I not see?!” He yelled, suddenly furious with himself.

“That’s why you’re upset?” Anthony asked incredulously.

“Of course!” Aziraphale said. “Of course that upsets me! This whole chateau, this curse, this whole thing-” Aziraphale gestured in the darkness of the room. “Is upsetting, how could I not be upset, how can you be so calm!” he yelled. 

“I’ve had time,” Anthony answered simply.

Aziraphale felt like all of the anger left his body all at once. His heart felt cold at Anthony’s admission. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, suddenly ashamed of himself.

“Don’t be,” Anthony said with conviction. “Angel don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault, none of this is your fault.” 

Anthony took both of Aziraphale’s hands in his, clasping them tightly in his own.

“You’ve already done so much, don’t you see?” Anthony laughed. “Until you came here, nothing has changed, and now everything’s changed.” He said, squeezing their hands together. “And now you can hear me, I can speak!” he said excitedly. “And now you know I’m the serpent. Everything’s different now.”

Aziraphale felt his face heat at Anthony’s words. “I wish I could do more,” he admitted. 

“You don’t have to,” Anthony breathed. “You don’t need to do anything Angel, just be yourself.”

Aziraphale ducked his head bashfully, although he could not see Anthony’s gaze. He felt a warm feeling rise in his chest at Anthony’s words. 

“But I want to help.” He admitted. “I want to break your curse, I want to help you.”

“I know you will Angel, I believe in you. You’re so clever, I know you can do it.” 

Aziraphale smiled, feeling pleased, but a sudden thought came to him. “But, why me though?” he wondered out loud. “Why can I break the curse?”

Anthony said nothing in response and Aziraphale let out a frustrated sigh. “I know you probably can’t tell me, it’s just been a weight on my mind,” he admitted. “But enough of that, there are some other things I’d like to know.”

“Like what?” Anthony asked, eagerly.

“What the devil what that awful song earlier?” he asked.

Anthony let out a bark of laughter. “I thought you’d hate it.” he admitted. “It’s a song from the Velvet Underground.”

“What’s a Velvet Underground?” Aziraphale asked. 

“It’s a rock band,” Anthony explained. 

“Oh bebop then,” Aziraphale said, dismissively. 

“Only you’d call them that,” Anthony said, laughing again. 

“What was he singing about anyway?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask, thinking of the anxiety the music gave him before.

“Drugs,” Anthony answered simply.

“Ugh,” Aziraphale gasped, scandalized.

Anthony laughed again bright and clear, and even if Aziraphale hated the song, he’d listen to it again and again, just to hear Anthony laugh one more time. 

“There’s one more thing I’d like to know,” Aziraphale admitted, when Anthony’s laughter subsided.

“Anything,” Anthony said.

“Why did you attack me? The first day I came I mean.” Aziraphale asked. “I’m sure I might have startled you, and I apologize for that by the way.”

“Attack you?” Anthony asked in surprise. 

“You know, in the garden, the first time, oh the first time we met then.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony said nothing in response.

“You don’t have the answer if you don’t want to,” Aziraphale said uneasily, wondering if he should have left well enough alone.

“No, it’s fine,” Anthony sighed. “It’s just, I didn’t attack you,”

Aziraphale blinked at the admission.

“I guess I did startle you,” Anthony admitted. “That was my fault. But when you began to fall-” he said, trailing off.

“You caught me,” Aziraphale realized.

“That rose bush had a lot of thorns,” Anthony admitted quietly. 

“You didn’t want me to be hurt,” Aziraphale breathed.

Anthony said nothing more. Aziraphale took his hands out of Anthony’s grip to wrap them around his shoulders again. Anthony opened his arms to Aziraphale’s embrace, pulling him close once more.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Think nothing of it,” Anthony said.

“I’m going to break your curse Anthony, I swear it.” Aziraphale promised. “I’m going to figure out who did this to you.”

“I’ll be waiting then,” Anthony said.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the night. Aziraphale enjoyed holding Anthony, and being held by him in turn, before the both of them retired to bed. Aziraphale slept soundly that night, and the last thing he felt before falling asleep was the soothing feeling of Anthony running his hand through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done! So sorry for the late upload guys, I caught the flu earlier last week and it completely wiped me out, thank you so much for your patience!
> 
> The song Aziraphale hates is 'Heroin' by the Velvet Underground. Not the best song to comfort a frazzled Angel but I like it a lot, check it out if you want.
> 
> I'm going to try to upload new chapters every 1 or 2 weeks depending on my schedule and productivity so stay tuned. Sorry again for the long wait this time around!


	7. Chapter 7

Aziraphale woke up the next morning with the feeling of someone else beside him in bed. His brain snapped awake as he turned quickly to look beside him. There, curled underneath the covers, was Anthony in his serpent form. Aziraphale stared at him, before smiling in delight. 

Anthony’s eyes were still closed, his serpentine head turned towards him on the pillow. Aziraphale watched him sleep for a short while, before carefully climbing out of bed. He dressed slowly, wincing as the wardrobe creaked when he opened it. He shot a careful glance back to the bed where Anthony was still sound asleep.

He breathed a sigh of relief and washed up in the bathroom, careful to keep the water pressure low to make as little sound as possible. Aziraphale left the bedroom, leaving the bedroom door cracked for Anthony. He went to the kitchen and found no breakfast waiting on the table for him, but that didn’t deter him. It was time for him to make something for Anthony for a change.

He dug out some sausage, eggs, and butter stored in the ice box, inwardly thanking Anthony for stocking the kitchen, and took down one of the copper frying pans hung on the wall. He moved to turn the stove on, frowning as he looked it over. Now how did one go about starting it?

Aziraphale found a switch on the front of the stove. He switched it on to low, but no flame came forth. Frowning, he looked around for any other clues. There were other switches on the stove, presumably for the other burners on the stove top, but Aziraphale paid them no mind. He looked around behind the stove and to the side, and found a small pipe line that fed into the wall at the bottom left hand corner of a stove. 

The pipeline had a small red valve head attached to it. Curiously, Aziraphale turned it to the left and heard a low hissing noise. He glanced towards the stove, but found no flame had sprung forth. Dejected, he looked around some more, opening drawers and looking behind the cabinets and stove top for any more clues to turn it on. 

One small drawer next to the stove contained a long thin rectangular box. Aziraphale opened the box and found a collection of long stick matches. He glanced towards the empty burner and then back to the box. An idea formed in his mind. He took one of the matches and struck it against the rough side of the box. 

Sadly, he struck the match with too much force, and the head of the match tumbled off. Frowning, he tried again, with a bit less force this time. The match lit. Carefully, he placed the flame into the empty burner and the stove lit. Smiling at his accomplishment, Aziraphale blew out the match and put the box of matches away where he found them before getting to work. He used a butter knife to cut a small glob of butter off the stick and placed it into the pan. It quickly melted and browned at the force of the heat.

He spread the butter around to lather the pan, and then threw in a few sausages onto the pan. They sizzled and popped when he placed them inside. Aziraphale kept a careful eye on the sausages as he turned his attention to the eggs. He took out a small porcelain bowl in one of the cabinets and cracked a few eggs into it. He had to scoop out a few errant pieces of shell before using a fork to mix the eggs together. He then sprinkled in some salt and pepper into the mix for good measure.

He turned over the sausages after the eggs were mixed and waited for them to cook. After they were browned to about the same color that Anthony made his, he took the sausages off of the stove. 

Aziraphale turned down the heat and stirred the eggs on the pan. As they cooked, he took out two plates from the cabinets and divided the cooked sausages onto each. It was only until the eggs had finished cooking and he had both plates ready for serving, did he come to a terrible thought. Could Anthony even eat regular food in his serpent form?

Aziraphale froze, hovering over the table with both plates in hand. Now that he thought about it, Anthony probably couldn’t eat regular food at all. After all, when Aziraphale first came to the manor, there wasn’t a morsel of food to speak of. Maybe he could only eat what snakes ate? Aziraphale thought of how Anthony spent an awful lot of time in the garden in serpent form. He always thought it was to enjoy the sunshine and look after his plants, but maybe there was another reason as well?

Typically gardens attracted all sorts of wildlife, including pests. A garden as vast as Anthony’s was sure to attract all sorts of vermin. And snakes typically ate small animals. Aziraphale shuddered at the thought of Anthony swallowing mice whole and nearly lost his appetite. He placed both plates on the table to free up his hands and began ringing them together nervously. He never thought of the other ramifications Anthony’s curse might bring, besides the obvious. What else was he missing?

He was interrupted in his train of thought as he heard the door to the kitchen gently creak open. He looked to the doorway to see Anthony slither inside. Anthony tilted his head up towards Aziraphale, and then to the breakfast laying on the counter.

“I wasn’t sure if you could eat this, but there’s sausage and eggs if you want any,” Aziraphale said. 

Anthony drew close to the food. He stuck his tongue out and closed his eyes for a long moment, and then opened them. He moved over to Aziraphale and butted his head against his hand. Aziraphale pet it gently watching as Anthony’s golden eyes close in pleasure.

“You can eat it now, right?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley nodded his head. 

“Oh good,” Aziraphale said brightly.

Anthony nodded his head again and curled up at the opposite end of the table. He waited for Aziraphale to seat himself and began eating. Aziraphale was oddly fascinated watching Anthony eat. The food floated close to his face as he swallowed entire morsels whole. In a few measured bites Anthony ate whole portions of food and swallowed them whole. Aziraphale finally tore his gaze away from Anthony inwardly chastising himself for his rudeness. He finished his own meal and then washed their plates in the sink.

“Shall we go to the garden?” Aziraphale asked with a smile.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically as they set out outside. Aziraphale enjoyed the fresh breeze and sunshine on his face as he watered the garden, occasionally digging his fingers into the soil to make sure it was nice and moist. Afterwards, they strolled about the garden for the rest of the morning, with Anthony showing him new beds of flowers and hidden places he hadn’t yet discovered. 

Anthony showed him a small corner of the garden where an assortment of birdbaths were kept. There was a stone bath with a robin motif carved into it. A glass blue bath raised on one long black thin stem holding up the shallow pool. And a tiered iron bath where water spouted from the smallest top tier into the bottom two. 

Beneath a canopy of lavender wisteria was a simple wooden bench. Aziraphale and Anthony spent a good deal of time there watching birds clean themselves in the bath and sing to each other. Aziraphale watched the birds come and go, flying from the canopy of trees around them and back into the water. Maybe there was a book about local birds in the library Aziraphale could read later, so he could recognize the different species.

Anthony watched over the birds with a sharp eye, but he lay content at Aziraphale’s feet. After looking at the birds, Aziraphale led Anthony to the duck pond he was so fond of.

“This is my favorite part of the garden,” he confessed. “I just love watching the ducks swim by.”

Anthony tilted his head at Aziraphale, and turned his attention to the family of ducks swimming in the pond. The mother duck led them in their usual procession, occasionally diving under water for food. The ducklings looked like they had grown a bit. Their bodies were larger and fuzzier than before.

"What do you think they need to eat?” Aziraphale wondered. “I’ve been feeding them crumbs of bread every now and again, but I wonder if that’s any good for them,” he said, gesturing to the mother feeding them bits of plant life.

Anthony said nothing in response. He gazed out onto the water for a long while, before turning to Aziraphale with an unnerving stare.

“Ah, so you don’t know either,” Aziraphale laughed. “That’s okay, I can look it up later in the library.”

Morning came and went, and soon it was early afternoon. They spent some time looking around the garden until Aziraphale admitted it was time for him to do some research in the library. Anthony slithered off into a bed of flowers, presumably to make strong noises at any flowers that weren’t up to his standards. 

Aziraphale spent part of his time in the library looking for books on any local wildlife. It took him a little under an hour to find a large encyclopedia on the wildlife of France. Many of the animals depicted in the book seemed familiar to Aziraphale, including the species of ducks that lived on the pond. Aziraphale was happy to have a little more information on the area he lived in. He began to comb through the book.

Apparently, the ducks ate anything between plants, seeds, smaller fish, and snails. Nothing in the book mentioned any bread crumbs. Aziraphale worried his lip at the thought and resolved to only feed the little duck family food from the book from now on. Hopefully Anthony wouldn’t mind making up some more suitable food for them in the near future.

Aziraphale dithered about looking for books in the library on serpents, but aside from some smaller garden variety ones he found in the encyclopedia, he couldn’t find any that might apply to Anthony. Aziraphale wasn’t sure exactly how the curse he was under translated to other serpentine instincts, but he doubted much information on any local garden variety species would be very useful. The only useful information he gleaned from the book was that serpents were cold blooded creatures and that they could smell things with their tongues. 

“Well that certainly explains some things,” Aziraphale thought out loud, thinking back to Anthony’s lethargy during the cool weather a while ago. 

He tried to do more research on any sort of magic, and read up on more myths and fairy tales. Despite avidly taking notes, Aziraphale didn’t feel like he accomplished much. He sighed as he closed his books, and his stomach rumbled for a late lunch. He popped into the kitchen and found a plate of food waiting for him. 

Aziraphale smiled at Anthony’s thoughtfulness. He dug into his chicken wrap with tomato, spinach, and a roasted pepper and garlic sauce. Aziraphale thoroughly enjoyed his meal. After cleaning up, he went back outside to check up on Anthony. He didn’t find him right away, it took some time of looking around with him squinting in the afternoon sun before he found him.

Anthony was turned away from him, his upper body upright and imposing as he leaned over a large bed of petunias. He didn’t notice him as he approached. Aziraphale kept his steps as light as possible, and smiled to himself. Anthony was making some truly threatening hissing noises. His long black tail rose up threateningly as he loomed over the plants.

Aziraphale watched him quietly as he stalked around the bed, nosing some lower leaves and hissing at the flowers. Although the day was warm with no wind, it seemed as if the flowers were moving in the breeze. To Aziraphale, it looked as if they were almost shivering in fear.

“The poor things, must you be so hard on them?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony twisted around, his large body twitching in alarm. Aziraphale had trouble keeping a grin off of his face. 

“Did I startle you?” he asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. 

Anthony hissed at him and slithered over to Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled as he matched his own height looking into Anthony’s unblinking golden eyes. 

“Were you yelling at the flowers again?” Aziraphale asked, gesturing to the cowering petunias.

Anthony ducked his head bashfully. Aziraphale lightly pat his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. You're the expert after all,” He said.

Anthony hissed again, nudging his head in Aziraphale’s palm. Aziraphale pet the smooth skin of his head and neck, feeling the bumps and ridges of his scales.

“Thank you for making lunch for me again. It was delicious.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony closed his eyes as Aziraphale continued to pet him, flicking his tongue out lazily. 

“Are you all done here?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony opened his eyes slowly and nodded his head once.

“Lovely! Shall we go inside then? Perhaps we could listen to some music together?” He asked.

Anthony nodded his head again. He followed Aziraphale back into the house. Aziraphale stopped by the ice box to pluck out a bottle of white wine and a crystal glass. He turned towards Anthony.

“Do you mind if I have a drink?” Aziraphale asked. If Anthony played any more bebop tonight, he feared he might need it.

Anthony shook his head and nosed about the lower cupboards. Aziraphale opened the cupboard Anthony gestured to and found a collection of bowls.

"Do you need something?” He asked.

Anthony pointed his head at a small shallow porcelain bowl on the top of the stack. Aziraphale put down the bottle of wine and glass to fish it out. It was a pretty little thing, all white china and dark blue and gold trimming. The rim of the bowel had small purple grape vines twisting around it while the center showed a delicate pale pink rose.

“Do you need it for something?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony looked towards the bowel and then up towards the glass of wine sitting on the counter. 

“Oh! Should you be drinking, um, in that form I mean?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask.

Anthony gazed at him for a long moment, before gesturing back towards the wine glass.

“Right sorry, sorry.” Aziraphale apologized. “I just worry, is all.” 

Aziraphale carried the bottle of wine, his glass and Anthony’s dish to the living room, struggling to hold all of them in his arms. He was grateful to be able to place them all carefully on the table near the fire. The fire was unlit, as the day was still warm. 

Anthony settled his long serpentine body onto the lounge. Aziraphale went to look around the room for anywhere else to settle, but startled at a sight near the fireplace. There was now a new leather armchair with a tartan throw over it. Aziraphale looked at it for a moment, and looked back at Anthony.

Anthony gazed up at him with his sharp golden eyes. 

"For me?" Aziraphale asked, sheepishly.

Anthony nodded his head, flicking his tongue out in a way that Aziraphale quietly deemed cute. 

Aziraphale sat in the chair and quietly sighed. It fit him perfectly. The leather was soft yet supple under his weight. 

“It’s lovely Anthony. Thank you.” He said, smiling.

Anthony ducked his head down, breaking their gaze. Aziraphale stood briefly to uncork the wine and poured himself and Anthony a generous amount. He placed Anthony’s dish on the table within easy reach for him and sat back in his chair.

As he settled back in his chair, he heard the tell tale scratch of the record player. He inwardly braced himself for more bebop, taking a long sip of his wine. The liquid was smooth down his throat as soft music began to play. Aziraphale was surprised to hear the soft sound of woodwinds and a gentle tune of a harp playing.

The music started off gentle before it picked up. Aziraphale listened to the song, enraptured by the many sweeping sounds and romantic, yet tragic tune. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by the music.

He listened to the rest of the song with his eyes closed the entire time. Eventually the song ended, and Aziraphale was left with a strange feeling of awe inside him. He opened his eyes and met Anthony’s expectant gaze.

“Lovely, just absolutely lovely,” he breathed.

Anthony hissed in pleasure and ducked down to lap at the wine in his bowl. Aziraphale followed suit, taking another long sip of his wine. The next song played, and then another. Aziraphale listened enraptured, working his way through his wine glass, and then pouring himself another. The similar musical tones and instruments that played between each song made him think he was listening to a story he didn’t know the words to.

He mind went a little fuzzy by the time the record looped. By now, the sun cast a golden light through the room. Anthony flicked his tail and the record scratched again. Aziraphale watched idly as the record floated out of the machine and back into its sleeve. Another record floated out from its sleeve from a separate pile on the table and placed itself onto the machine.

The machine scratched again and other music played. Aziraphale enjoyed listening to the soft guitar strings, before the song changed and rock music played. Aziraphale tolerated the sound for Anthony’s sake, too buzzed on wine and the feeling he got from the record previous to care. They sat there getting thoroughly sloshed as the sun dipped low in the sky.

Aziraphale was well and truly drunk by the time the second record stopped. The room spun around him and the bottle of wine on the counter was only half empty. Aziraphale found it a bit odd, as Anthony and him had drank quite a bit, but he didn’t have the focus to puzzle it out.

Anthony himself was draped across the lounge, passed out. Half of his long body falling onto the floor. Aziraphale watched the rise and fall of his breath in a daze. Aziraphale felt his eyes get heavy, and conceded it might be time to turn in. 

He slowly stood up from his slumped position in the chair. It took a significant amount of effort to achieve. Aziraphale stumbled a bit as he got up from the chair, nearly toppling over the ornate coffee table. He grabbed the tartan blanket from his armchair and threw it over Anthony.

Anthony didn’t even stir as the blanket’s warm weight settled over him. 

Aziraphale smiled at the sight, blinking a few times to try and focus his vision. Slowly, he turned towards the doorway and began shuffling out of the room. He had to place one hand firmly on the side of the wall as he walked down the hallway for fear of falling over. His feet beneath him were unsteady, and Aziraphale felt like he was on the deck of a rocking ship over an uneasy sea.

Slowly but surely, he managed to make his way to the master bedroom. He had just enough energy to toe off his shoes before collapsing onto the bed. Face down atop of the soft sheets, he considered crawling under the covers, but quickly dismissed the thought. Before he knew it, he fell into a deep sleep.

Later in the dead of night, he thought he felt someone else’s weight enter the bed. But his mind was too hazy and tired, and he felt himself drifting away shortly after that.

***

Time passed pleasantly in the manor as Aziraphale fully settled into his routine. He would eat breakfast with Anthony, trying his hand at cooking every now and again before checking on his garden. As the weeks rolled by, along with a few cold fronts of rain, followed by warm sunny days, Aziraphale’s garden slowly began to sprout. 

The beet seeds slowly pushed out of the ground, leaving tiny red stalks with little green leaves on top. The peas sprouted as well, thin light stalks slowly rose with dark green leaves on top. 

The spinach seedlings grew as well, creating wide little ‘v’ shaped leaves with a tiny bud at the center. The potatoes had budded, creating thick fuzzy little stalks. Aziraphale smiled proudly at his little garden, happy to see some results after weeks of planting and careful tending. Every night Anthony would give him tips on how to maintain the garden, although Aziraphale chose to ignore any advice based on yelling or degrading the plants.

As Aziraphale tended to his garden, watering the soil carefully and doing away with any errant weeds, he would whisper soft words of encouragement instead. 

“Aren’t you a lovely little thing,” he whispered to his newly ground sprouts. 

He gently ran his fingers over the small leaves of one of his tiny beet plants.

“You look marvelous,” he cooed to his potato seedlings. 

He repeated the processes as he watered his plants every morning, occasionally checking the soil to make sure it wasn’t too wet or too dry. Anthony watched him with a careful eye each time, often while settled in a warm patch of sun and flicking his tail lazily in the breeze.

Aziraphale eventually decided to plant some herbs in the center of the garden. He planted some mint, basil, and coriander to start. After some time, they too began to sprout.

Aziraphale felt a keen sense of pride as he watched his garden grow. Slowly but surely, the plants grew a little more every day.

“I can see why you enjoy gardening so much,” Aziraphale commented to Anthony one night, as they settled into bed.

“Oh, you do?” Anthony teased.

“It’s just so fulfilling to watch something grow by your own hands,” Aziraphale said. “Thank you for teaching me. I wouldn’t know a thing without you.”

“You’re welcome Angel,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale couldn’t see Anthony’s face in the darkness, but the warmth in his voice made Aziraphale imagine there might just be a smile on his face. And that was something that Aziraphale was doing a lot of as of late. Imagining.

In the afternoon, when he’d be reading his books or researching about magic, he’d secretly imagine what Anthony would look like as a man. Even with Anthony so close to him every night, Aziraphale did wonder. 

Were his eyes still gold as a man like they were as a serpent? Or were they a different color? Were they only made gold from the magic of the spell he was under? Did Anthony have hair as black as his beautiful scales? Was he a tall man? Aziraphale imagined so. Perhaps his height almost matched the long length of his body when he was a serpent.

Aziraphale often wondered if he should just ask Anthony what he might look like when they went to bed together each night. Still, every time he got the urge to ask, he held his tongue. He didn’t know how much Anthony could or couldn’t tell him due to the curse. But even if he could say, Aziraphale didn’t want to upset him.

Every time he had asked Anthony why he couldn’t see him during the day before he knew he was the serpent, Anthony had always seemed very uncomfortable. At first, Aziraphale had chalked it up to Anthony not being able to speak of the curse, but now, he wondered. 

It must be very upsetting to not have any control over one's own body. Aziraphale might not have any memories, and be as trapped in this manor as Anthony, but at least he still had control over his body. No, it was best not to make Anthony uncomfortable. That was the most important thing.

Days bled into weeks as Aziraphale enjoyed spending time with Anthony morning, noon, and night. Aziraphale enjoyed accompanying him in the garden. He enjoyed cooking for the both of them, trying his hand at simple meals, and silently gauging what Anthony might like. 

He enjoyed spending nights together, even in the pitch dark, and occasionally reading together in the library, Aziraphale with his books and research, and Anthony curled up close to him napping or listening to a record or two. It was peaceful. Life at the manor was peaceful. 

Aziraphale was thoroughly enjoying himself with Anthony, despite the two of them being unable to leave the manor. There was only one problem. He had completely hit a dead end in his research.

No matter how many books he poured over, or how many notes he wrote, he just couldn’t figure out how to break Anthony’s spell. Or spell over the manor. Often times, after hours of fruitless research, Aziraphale would put down his pen and paper in frustration and rub at his tired eyes. What was he missing? What did he not understand?

The magic worked such that he had to figure out the mechanics of the spell in order to break it, but it was hard to guess how it might work without any hints or clues. And poor Anthony, someone who probably knew how it worked, couldn’t even tell him. 

Aziraphale closed his books early one afternoon. He and Anthony had eaten dinner together, well Aziraphale had quietly eaten most of his food, while Anthony ate a small morsel of meat over his plate. It was only when Aziraphale had woken up in darkness, same as always, did Anthony comment on his subdued mood. 

“Is something wrong Angel?” he asked as he climbed into bed.

Aziraphale sighed at the question. “I don’t want to trouble you with it,” he muttered, absentmindedly fluffing his pillow. 

“Angel,” Anthony breathed.

Aziraphale ducked his head, even though he was pretty sure Anthony couldn’t see him.

“You can tell me anything,” Anthony whispered. “If you’re upset, I’ll listen.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a long moment, debating whether to tell him or not, before admitting defeat. “Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll tell you. It’s just hard for me to say.” he admitted.

“It’s okay,” Anthony whispered. “Take your time.”

“Well, you know I’ve been trying to work out how the magic here works, right?” Aziraphale asked.

“Of course.” Anthony answered.

"And you know how I figured out that I have to know how the spell works in order to break it too.”

Anthony hummed in agreement.

“Well, it’s just that I've been going through all of my books and my notes, and I have no idea how to break your curse Anthony.” He confessed.

“But you will,” Anthony said.

“That’s just it!” Aziraphale snapped. “I can’t! No matter how much I puzzle over it, I don’t know how to turn you back into a man, or how to get the both of us out of this manor! I try and try for hours every day but nothing’s come to me. I’m stuck!” He yelled, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

Anthony was quiet beside him, long enough that Aziraphale feared that he had offended him. 

“I know you’re frustrated, but don't you think you’re being a bit hard on yourself?” He said.

“No,” Aziraphale disagreed immediatly.

“Well I do,” Anthony said. “I know you can break the spell. It’s like I told you before, you’ve done so much already.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could do more.” Aziraphale muttered.

“These things take time Angel,” Anthony said, putting a comforting hand over Aziraphale’s knee. “I spent months trying to break the magic on my own without getting anywhere. It’s okay to be stuck sometimes.”

Aziraphale’s face flushed hot at Anthony’s words. “If you say so then,” he mumbled.

“I do,” Anthony agreed. “And I know you can do it.” 

Aziraphale sighed, letting all of the tension flow out of his body. “Fine, I’ll try not to trouble myself too much,”

“Good,” Anthony said. 

***

As time passed in the manor, Aziraphale tried his best to heed Anthony’s words. As much as he struggled with his research, he tried not to let the stall in his progress dampen his spirits. It helped that his garden had slowly began to flourish. The weather had begun to warm significantly, and some of his crops were quickly reaching the point of harvest.

“The basil is ready to harvest,” Anthony said to him one night.

“Oh, already?” Aziraphale asked. Now that he thought about it, the leaves of the plant had been looking healthy and full. 

“It doesn’t take too long to grow,” Anthony explained. “The spinach should be ready to harvest in a week or so as well.”

Aziraphale spent the rest of the morning harvesting the basil. Anthony had instructed Aziraphale to pinch the leaves off of the plant from the top of the plant down. Now that the plant itself was fully grown, more leaves would grow within a few weeks. Anthony had told him he would be able to harvest the leaves well into summer. 

By the end of the morning, Aziraphale’s basket was near overflowing with basil. He took the basket back into the kitchen and began sorting the leaves into piles onto the freshly cleaned counter.

Anthony watched Aziraphale work from his spot in the doorway, half in the house and half in the garden, soaking up the heat of the sun. Aziraphale set a handful of fresh leaves aside to be used immediately for lunch. He had fished out a few cookbooks from the library to work out what to make with it.

He made another large pile and placed it into a jar in the ice box to keep the leaves fresh for future meals. He was now left with the remaining lion’s share of basil. Aziraphale stared at the pile and wondered what to do with it. He flipped back and forth through the cookbooks for inspiration.

He stopped on one page describing how to make pesto pasta and skimmed over the ingredients. His eyes brightened when he saw was basil listed on it.

“How does pasta sound for dinner?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded his head in agreement in the doorway.

Aziraphale left the book open on the pesto pasta recipe in the cookbook stand Anthony had conjured for him. He put away the rest of the basil into a separate jar in the icebox to cook for later that night. 

He set to work making lunch with the handful of basil he saved. Anthony had conjured him some mozzarella and tomato. He went to the larder and retrieved a glass bottle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. 

He chopped up the mozzarella and tomato, placing the mozzarella on top of each tomato slice after placing. He drizzled the vinegar and olive oil over the two and garnished each pair with a large leaf of basil. 

Aziraphale took the plate of food to the kitchen table and dug in, sighing at the cool fresh taste. The basil was lovely, and it filled Aziraphale with great pride to eat something grown by his own hand. When he first began cooking, Anthony had suggested that he learn how to do simple dishes like this one, and he was glad for the advice.

He finished his lunch. After washing the cutlery and putting it away, he set out to the library. He spent another fruitless afternoon researching, in the vain hope that some of the notes he took would give him some clue in how he could break the curse. 

Later, Anthony joined him in the kitchen just as he got started on dinner. He began making the pesto sauce first, mincing a generous amount of garlic and throwing it into a mortar. He sprinkled a pinch of salt and used the pestle to crush them together. Next, he put a good amount of basil leaves and minced pine nuts in as well. He ground them all together to make a wet dark green mass. 

After all of the basil was crushed, he took a soft block of parmesan and grated it into a separate bowl. Once Aziraphale had grated a decent amount, he threw a handful into the mortar, and crushed it together with the mixture. He repeated the process until all of the parmesan he had grated was gone.

It was hard work. The more ingredients Aziraphale added to the mortar, the more difficult it became to blend all together. His arm began to twinge after a while, so he switched hands. Finally, when everything was blended together, he added the olive oil. He sprinkled a fair amount in and mixed it all thoroughly together, before adding more. The olive oil made the mixture significantly smoother and easier to blend together. Before Aziraphale knew it, his sauce was done. 

Once the sauce was done, Aziraphale turned on the stove, starting the fire with a long match and filling up a medium pot halfway with water. He sprinkled in a pinch of salt into the pot and let the water boil, and then turned his attention to the onion.

Aziraphale’s eyes watered as he slowly began to chop up the onion. He had to stop a few times, and one one occasion, stepped outside to let the burning of his eyes subside. When he was done chopping up the onion, he grabbed a frying pan from the hanging rack and placed it onto a separate burner. 

He splashed a small amount of olive oil into the pan and jumped back as it sizzled. He simmered the chopped onion, and sprinkled it with salt and pepper. The aroma of the kitchen smelled divine as the food began to cook. Aziraphale’s stomach grumbled at the smell.

He smiled to Anthony, who was curled up on top of the table, after seeing him perk up in the corner of his eye.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Anthony paused before nodding. Aziraphale smiled warmly at the thought of Anthony eating the food he had cooked.

He turned back to the stove and idly pushed the onion around on the pan. 

By then the water had boiled, and he added the dry pasta to the mix. After placing the pasta into the pot, the onion began to soften. He added the pesto to the pan as well, and lowered the heat of the flame. He let it cook for a few more minutes. Finally, the sauce was done, and the pasta was as well when he fished out a strand to test it.

He turned off the stove and took out a bowl. He placed a generous amount of pasta into his bowl and topped it with the pesto sauce, doing the same for Anthony's plate. He retrieved a wine glass for himself and Anthony's porcelain bowl.

He poured them both a generous amount of wine and dug into his dinner. He nearly groaned with pleasure as the taste of pesto hit his tongue. Aziraphale ate his fill of pasta and washed it down with sips of white wine. Anthony lapped at the wine in his bowl, and occasionally flicked his tongue near his own plate to take in the strong scent of the food before digging in as well. 

Aziraphale finished his meal with a pleased sigh, and polished off his second glass of wine. The bottle was now half full with wine, but Aziraphale didn’t find it in himself to overindulge in drink that night. 

“It came out alright, didn’t it?” Aziraphale asked Anthony, pleased with his success.

Anthony nodded his head in agreement. Aziraphale cleaned up the dishes while Anthony watched, and turned in early for the night. He kicked off the comforter as he settled into bed, already warmed by the good food, drink, and the balmy night air, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done! I want to give a big shout out to whichwitchery, my wonderful beta. I wouldn't be able to publish this story without you! Thank you so much for your time reading over and editing my fic!
> 
> The song Aziraphale and Anthony are listening to in this chapter is the soundtrack to Swan Lake, Aziraphale likes classical music much better than 'bebop'.
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for your patience as always. Sometimes writing can be a struggle but your support helps a lot. Next chapter in the next week or so as always.


	8. Chapter 8

Before Aziraphale knew it, spring was well on its way to shifting into summer. All of his hard work in the garden was finally paying off. A few short weeks after harvesting the basil, the spinach was ready for harvest. He used it to cook some wonderful meals, like salads with blue cheese with nuts and raspberry dressing, or added them to other meals, like the vegetable omelettes he would whip up in the morning. 

Anthony was quite the help too, both around the house and the garden. Every night he’d come up with new cooking or recipe tips, slowly helping Aziraphale build up his skills. He helped around Aziraphale’s little garden as well, giving him ideas for what to plant for the coming summer season. 

While Aziraphale tended to his little plot, Anthony would make the rounds in the rest of the garden, terrorizing tulips, lilies, and other flowers, and being a general monster towards the plant life. 

Although Anthony would conjure up the ingredients Aziraphale couldn’t grow and harvest in his garden, Aziraphale began to take charge of the lion’s share of cooking and meal planning. He enjoyed being useful around the house. He enjoyed working hard and watching something grow. He found satisfaction in putting a series of ingredients together and making a meal out of them.

It helped to feel productive when he grew more and more frustrated with his research in the library. It was nice to see some of his work around the house come to fruition, at least. Sadly, in terms of research, Aziraphale felt like he well and truly hit a dead end. Within a few weeks of diligent reading and note taking, he had worked through his entire assorted pile of myths, legends, and historical records of witchcraft and magic. 

Aziraphale sighed heavily as he closed his books and organized his notes. He slowly began working the books back into their place on the shelves, mentally making a note to reorganize the library when he got the chance. The organization system wasn’t exactly to his liking, but he had bigger things to worry about.

He just didn’t know what he was missing! What did he not understand? Was it the books he was reading? Should he try another approach?

“Maybe I’m reading the wrong books,” he muttered darkly to himself.

It was difficult to break a spell when he didn’t know anything about magic. And even if he did, it wasn’t as if he would have remembered it anyway, with nothing of his own life to recall. It wouldn’t surprise Aziraphale one bit if he was under some sort of spell as well.

Aziraphale mulled over the thought and moved to place another book back on the shelf. He froze in place. His arm shook with the effort of keeping it upright. He blinked rapidly, slowly bringing the book closer to his chest. 

“Under a spell,” he said, dazed.

Absentmindedly, he felt the book slip from his hand and fall to the floor with a dull thud. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. His breath quickened, yet he wasn’t breathing in enough air. He broke out into a cold sweat and felt light headed. Slowly, Aziraphale slumped to the floor, overwhelmed by the terror that consumed him.

Of course he was under a spell, how could he not see it before? How could he be so stupid? 

Aziraphale’s heart felt like it would fall out of his chest. He clenched his teeth through the pain. He rocked back and forth to soothe himself. He took deep stuttering breaths, but he couldn’t shake the dread that filled his heart. How was he under a spell? Why? 

Aziraphale sat slumped in the library, trying to abate his panic for a long time. He got up to pace around a few times and take deep breaths, but it took a good long while for his panic to subside. The sun began to set in the sky after Aziraphale finally felt himself calm down. The dry sweat felt cold on his skin and his body felt tired and drained. It was nearly supper time, but for once, he didn’t have the stomach to eat anything. 

Slowly Aziraphale stood from the floor with shaky legs. He stood unsteadily on his feet, swaying with the effort to keep upright. In a daze, he stumbled back to the master bedroom. He collapsed on top of the bed and stared at nothing, unseeing. He buried his face into the pillow and inhaled deeply.

Anthony’s scent greeted him. He had laid down on Anthony’s side of the bed. Aziraphale breathed in deeply again, oddly soothed by the scent. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to shut out all of his feelings, but it was no use. A terrible wave of sadness overtook him. He sniffed. His eyes stung with tears. 

His shoulders shook as he sobbed hot tears into Anthony’s pillow. He cried and cried, his body shaking with the effort, feeling miserable and alone. He didn’t feel much better when the tears stopped. There was still a hollow ache in his chest, and more questions than answers. He lay on Anthony’s side of the bed, overcome by grief, and as the sun went down, fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

The first thing that Aziraphale became aware of was the a hand shaking him awake. Aziraphale opened his eyes in the darkness and blinked in confusion. It took him a moment to get his bearings before awareness came to him. He was sleeping on Anthony’s side of the bed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll move,” he mumbled, and slowly sat up.

“Never mind that Angel. What happened, is something wrong?” Anthony asked. His voice was sharp and alarmed.

Aziraphale felt his mouth close shut at his questions, suddenly at a loss. 

“It’s okay Angel, you can talk to me.” Anthony said.

Aziraphale could feel Anthony lean down close to him. Anthony ran his hand delicately over his face. Aziraphale closed his eyes from the warmth of his touch. 

“Please say something,” Anthony pleaded.

Aziraphale trembled at his touch. His breath stuttered and he felt all of the fight give out of him. Shaking, he moved back over to his side of the bed, letting Anthony sit by his side. 

“I’m under a spell too, aren’t I?” Aziraphale asked. “That's why I can’t-” Aziraphale stopped with a shudder. It felt like his throat had closed from the weight of his words.

“Oh Angel,” Anthony breathed, drawing him in close. 

Aziraphale let himself be held. He didn’t cry, he didn’t feel like he had anymore tears left, but his heart felt heavy and cold. 

“I just don’t understand,” Aziraphale said, when words finally returned to him. “Why can’t I remember? Who did this?” 

Anthony shushed him and ran warm comforting circles in his back. “It’s okay Angel, everything will be alright. I swear it.” 

Aziraphale nodded mutely in response, breathing in Anthony’s scent. Anthony held him for a long time. Belatedly, Aziraphale realized he was still wearing his day clothes. He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his vest, throwing it somewhere in the darkness. He lay down with Anthony in the dark, placing his head on his chest. 

Anthony continued to soothe him. He hummed softly in his ear and ran a warm hand up and down his back. Aziraphale felt the soft rise and fall of Anthony’s breath underneath him, comforted by the steady beat of his heart. He fell asleep to the comforting weight of Anthony’s arms wrapped protectively around him.

***

Aziraphale woke in the morning to find Anthony still curled around him. His large, long serpentine body wrapped around him. Aziraphale lifted his head from Anthony’s cool scales and blinked in the daylight. His body felt tired and sore, and for once, he felt no need to rise to greet the day.

He shot a careful glance at Anthony, whose eyes were closed. His head was resting on the pillow. Every now and again his serpentine tongue would flick out in his sleep.

Aziraphale smiled at the sight. Between the warmth of the bed and Anthony still wrapped around him, Aziraphale made his choice. It wouldn’t hurt to sleep just a little bit longer. 

*** 

Aziraphale woke again later feeling lethargic, but well rested. He sat up in bed and stretched. Anthony was awake staring expectantly at him. Aziraphale would almost say he looked apprehensive. He smiled and patted his head.

“I’m okay now,” he promised. 

Anthony nodded his head in response. Aziraphale stumbled out of bed stretched out his back. His clothes felt tight and rumpled on his skin. He glanced at the floor and sighed at the sight of his poor waistcoat. 

Just as he was about to lean over and pick it up off the floor, it fluttered out of his grasp. Aziraphale watched in amazement as it floated gently into the air. All of a sudden the wrinkles smoothed out of it. He watched as it floated to the wardrobe, where the door also opened on its own. A coat hanger flew out and his waistcoat wrapped around it. His waistcoat hung itself up in the wardrobe and the wardrobe door closed itself with a click. 

Aziraphale turned slowly back to Anthony, the upper half of his body still turned towards the wardrobe. 

“You did that, didn’t you?” he asked.

Anthony nodded his head.

“You know, I never thought about it before, but I think this is the first time I’ve seen you do magic.”

Anthony ducked his head shyly.

“You really are amazing,” Aziraphale smiled.

He stood up from bed, clasping his arms together and raising them in the air. His back stretched out with a satisfying pop and Aziraphale sighed in content. Aziraphale combed through his wardrobe, wondering what to wear while Anthony slithered out of bed. 

Aziraphale decided on cream colored trousers and a crisp white shirt when he heard the bedroom door creak. He turned around to see Anthony nudging it open with his head.

“Off to check on the garden?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded.

“I’ll be there later I think,” Aziraphale said, thinking he’d like to bathe first.

Anthony nodded again and exited the room. 

After enjoying a nice bath and getting dressed, Aziraphale went to the kitchen. He made himself some scrambled eggs with toast. He ate quickly, ravenous with hunger after skipping dinner the night before. Afterwards he checked on the garden, watering the plants and pulling out a stray weed or two. The plants were coming along nicely. In a few more weeks more of them would be ready for harvest.

The day was already warm and bright, and the sun high in the sky. On his usual walk around the garden, he spied Anthony hissing at some cowering lavender. He smiled and waved to him, getting a flick of his tongue in return, but left him to it.

Sitting on his bench at the duck pond later was soothing. He watched the family of ducks swim by. The ducklings seemed to grow a little bit more every day. Their limbs were long and lanky. Some dove down into the water for food, and others nipped at each other playfully.

Aziraphale watched them, and felt oddly at peace. The sun felt warm on his face, and everything seemed bright. He didn’t have any memory, and he like Anthony, was under a spell. There was a lot he didn’t know. But the memory of Anthony holding him last night settled him. They were in this mess together, and they’d solve it together too. He didn’t know how exactly, but he had faith that they would. When Anthony said everything would be okay, Aziraphale believed him. 

Later, Aziraphale went inside to begin sorting out the pile of basil he had picked earlier. He skipped his usual trip to the library. He would have to take a different approach to breaking the curse. Reading books wasn’t going to work for the time being, as much as it pained Aziraphale to realize. A bit of a break might grant him some inspiration.

He ate a light lunch and got to work cooking. He harvested a second batch of basil from the garden a few days ago. He turned on the gas for the oven and opened the door. He lit another long match and placed it in a small hole near the mouth of the oven. The flame lit and Aziraphale closed the oven door.

He turned the knob of the oven, heating the oven to a reasonable heat, and waited for it to warm up. He took out the second harvest of basil out of the icebox and fished out some metal trays out of the cupboard. He spread the leaves of basil evenly on each tray, three in total. Once that was done, he only had to wait a little while longer before the oven was properly heated. 

He placed each tray inside of the oven, one of them having to go on the lower rack for lack of space and closed the oven door. He checked on the basil every now and again to see if it was drying properly and unburnt. While he waited for them to dry out he flicked through some cookbooks to get some inspiration on his next meal. Dried basil made a good topping for pizza, apparently. The process of making dough looked a little advanced for Aziraphale’s fledgling cooking skills, but he kept it in mind regardless.

After about an hour or so, Aziraphale peeked into the oven one last time and deemed the basil completely dried. The leaves were dry and their vibrant green color had faded a bit to a more muted grey color. He let the trays cool on cooling rack. Once the they were cooled, he shuffled his hands through the pile of basil to double check that none were still wet.

After finding that all of the basil was perfectly dried, he placed all of the basil into a large porcelain bowl. The bowl was nearly filled to the brim with dried plants. He took out his trusty mortar and pestle, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work. 

He ground up the bail in large handfuls. It didn’t take much effort to make the leaves crumble to small flakes. He transferred the flakes of basil into a large tin. It was quick work to crush up all of the basil and store it away. By the time he was done, the tin was brimming with crushed herb. 

Aziraphale smiled at his work. Once it was done, he placed the tin in the larder and washed off the metal trays. A few more harvests and he’d have plenty to last until winter. 

Aziraphale relaxed for the rest of the day, going back to the library later to read a book for pleasure, instead of fruitless research. It had been a good long while since he had been able to do that. He spent the next few weeks working in the garden and reading as many books as he liked. 

He harvested the peas after a few more weeks. It took him two days to pinch the pods off of the plants and shuck all of the peas. Once he removed the peas from their pods, he stored them in a large glass jar in the icebox. It felt good to work with his hands in the kitchen during long afternoons,and steadily worked through his pile of produce.

He filled up a large bowel with peas, measuring out a good amount to make for supper, and stored the rest for later. Aziraphale made pea soup, spending one long early evening carefully simmering peas in a large pot of water before removing them and crushing them with herbs, butter, and seasoning in another pan to make a soft creamy soup. 

The soup tasted divine with the warm bread Anthony had conjured one evening. He slid into their bed that night, complimenting Aziraphale on his cooking skills after changing back into a man and trying some for himself.

Aziraphale found he loved cooking for Anthony, although he noticed that he didn’t seem to eat much. Aziraphale was always careful to leave a good large portion of every supper he cooked in the ice box for Anthony if he chose to eat. Parts of the food would disappear, but more often than not, large portions would still remain. Aziraphale tried not to let it get to him. He couldn't say what Anthony's appetite was like when he was a snake. Perhaps the spell he was under affected his eating habits? Regardless it wasn't any of Aziraphale's business to pry, he had done that enough already. All he would do is cook for Anthony, if he chose to eat it. Anthony would never go hungry with him in the house, that was his own silent promise to himself. 

After working through his store of peas, the beets were ready for harvest. The leaves were large things, twice as big as one of his hands. He woke up early one morning to harvest them. The head of the bulbs poked out of the earth. He kneeled on the ground, going through row after row of beets, reaching down towards the bottom of the plant and pulling them from the earth.

He placed the beets in a long shallow basket, the stalks and leaves of the plant drooping over the edge. He had to make a few trips back into the kitchen, transferring his beets into a large metal colander in the sink to make room in his basket. Once all of the beets were harvested, he went to work rinsing them in the sink, making sure all of the dirt and debris were free from each one. 

He cut off the stems and leaves from each beet, storing them in the ice box while he placed the beets in the large burlap sacks Anthony had conjured earlier. When he wasn’t off terrorizing his plants in the garden, Anthony was always by his side as Aziraphale cooked. Just when Aziraphale filled up and tied off one sack full of beets, another would appear out of thin air.

Aziraphale smiled to Anthony as he worked. After all of the beets were stored, he patted Anthony thankfully on the head. They spent the rest of the evening eating the dinner that Anthony conjured, as Aziraphale was a bit too tired from all of the work he did that day, and they relaxed in the lounge after. 

The following day, he cut up the stems and leaves from the beets, cooking them in a saucepan with a little bit of salt, olive oil, and black pepper. They made an excellent side dish for the next few meals.  
He used some of the beets to roast as a side dish as well, chopping them up into quarters and seasoning them with salt, pepper, and olive oil, before frying them in the oven. It paired well with the pork tenderloin Anthony had conjured for dinner as well.

After a few days of eating the produce from the garden, Anthony said anything he stored in the larder and ice box would keep for as long as they wished. Aziraphale was quietly grateful as he had worried if everything would keep before it spoiled, as he was forced to admit he might have planted a bit too many vegetables than he could eat in a small amount of time.

After the beets were done and the weather warmed, Aziraphale was ready to harvest the potatoes and mint from the garden. The mint was easy to harvest. He cut with a small scissor he found in garden shed and placed them in the icebox box afterwards. The mint tasted lovely in his hot black tea each morning. 

Harvesting the potatoes took considerably more effort. It took him two days to harvest all of them. Like the beets, he spent a considerable amount of time kneeling in the garden and pulling the potatoes out from the earth. He filled up large burlap sacks with potatoes and stored them in the larder. 

Spring days rolled by as Aziraphale wandered the garden and attempted new recipes. He tried new recipes and repeated old favorites until he felt he got each dish just right. 

Anthony tried to get his mind off his failure at breaking the curse. They talked for long hours almost every night about almost everything. The latest book Aziraphale read, what to plant for summer, and Anthony’s misadventures in the garden.

“You mean you ate the poor things?” Aziraphale asked aghast one night, as Anthony recalled catching a family of mice in his sunflower patch.

"Gobbled them all up,” Anthony said, a bit smugly.

“Ugh,” Aziraphale shuddered at the thought.

"They’re just pests Angel,” Anthony said. “They’ll eat your lovely garden up if I don’t keep watch.”

“You eat mice in my garden too?” Aziraphale asked, feeling a bit ill.

“They’ll just come back if I don’t,” Anthony insisted.

Aziraphale’s stomach felt like it would turn at the thought. The poor things they must have been so frightened from seeing such a large predator. Aziraphale still remembered how it felt thinking Anthony would eat him too.

“You’re too sweet,” Anthony said, reading Aziraphale’s silence. “They’re vermin Angel, you can’t just let them run wild.”

“Oh I know,” Aziraphale moaned. “I’m just, well, soft I suppose.”

“Nothing wrong with being soft,” Anthony said, soothingly. 

Aziraphale flushed at his words. 

“That’s very kind of you to say. Still, can you maybe try a way to keep them away without eating them?” Aziraphale asked.

“Of course,” Anthony agreed. “The mice don’t taste nearly as good as your cooking either,” he couldn’t help but tease.

“Oh stop it,” Aziraphale groaned at the thought of Anthony eating the poor things. 

Anthony laughed at Aziraphale’s discomfort, and in retaliation Aziraphale took a spare pillow he was leaning against and thumped it against his side a few times for good measure. This made Anthony laugh even harder, but his took his punishment with good humor. 

Before he knew it time rolled by, and Aziraphale had harvested all of his crops in the garden. A steady heat rose every afternoon, causing Aziraphale to sweat in his waistcoats and trousers. After harvesting the last of his coriander herbs around noon, Aziraphale had nearly sweat through his white linen shirt and corduroy pants. 

Aziraphale practically ran back into the kitchen with his basket, taking out a tall crystal glass and filling it up with cool water. He gulped it down greedily, and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

Anthony slithered into the kitchen after Aziraphale finished his water with a curious air about him. 

“It’s a bit too hot for me,” Aziraphale admitted, and fanned out the collar of his shirt.

Anthony tilted his head and flicked his tongue out.

“Oh I’m sure it’s fine for you, I know how much you love the sun.”

Anthony had spent many of the warmer afternoons sunning himself in warm patches of sunlight while Aziraphale worked on his garden. 

“I think I’m going to cool down,” Aziraphale said, after he put away his glass of water. 

That afternoon he turned on the tap for the bath and filled it with lukewarm bath water. He thoroughly washed all of the sweat off his body, and dressed in light sleep pants and a short sleeve shirt. He rolled off the second comforter off of the master bed and placed it in a linen closet in the hallway. He didn’t think they’d be needing it anymore. 

When he opened his wardrobe the next day, he found new clothes waiting for him. There, alongside his trousers, were lighter pants and shorts more suitable for warm weather. He looked through the hung clothes as well and found short sleeved dress shirts made of lighter cloth that breathed better.

Aziraphale dressed in tan shorts that fell just beneath the knee and put on a crisp white short sleeve shirt, forsaking his beloved waistcoats. He thanked Anthony when he found him in the kitchen after dressing. 

He went to the garden shed to gather his supplies to ready his plot for summer planting, and found a wide brimmed straw hat. He ran the hat through his hands, feeling the coarse material on his fingertips. It was a stylish thing. There was a long black ribbon tied around it, most likely silk, when Aziraphale ran a hand over it.

He placed the hat atop his head and gathered his supplies from the shed. He spent the next few mornings turning over the garden for summer plants. The area of the plot where he planted his beets and potatoes only took a few light weeding and inspection for stray rocks to clear, as he had already harvested all of the plants. 

It took Aziraphale much longer to get rid of the remaining spinach and pea plants. Anthony said the spinach would eventually turn bitter and even flower in the warmer months, so it was best to pull up the remaining roots that were left behind. The same went for the peas, as it was better to eat them fresh and young. Still, it filled Aziraphale with a fair bit of sadness to get rid of the remainder of the crop. He muttered apologies to the poor things as he pulled their roots up from the ground. 

The basil would keep producing leaves well into summer, along with his little herb garden. One long afternoon toiling in the garden had Aziraphale frequently wiping sweat from his brow and occasionally turning back inside for a cold drink.

Aziraphale walked back into the kitchen and removed his sun hat. He found a lovely spread of tea sandwiches and a large pitcher of lemonade waiting for him. Anthony was already waiting for him in the kitchen, his long body half draped over the other half of the table. Aziraphale dug in gratefully, sighing at the cool refreshing taste of lemonade.

After enjoying his lunch, he left his work in the garden for another day. For the first time in a long time, he made for the library with intent. Before, he’d pop in to grab a few books he was interested in reading, and take it to read while spending time with Anthony in the sitting room, or in the garden. Now, he had a different purpose in mind. 

Aziraphale settled into his reading nook and took out his notes. He had pages upon pages of them, having steadily wrote down every thought and theory he had to do with magic all throughout spring. He flipped through his notes, reading over old theories and reliving the few breakthroughs he had. 

He bit his lip as he read over his notes, trying to puzzle over the problem from a different angle. Surely, he was going about this all wrong. There must have been some clue he might have missed.

It was only until he was going over his notes again from the Beauty and the Beast story did an idea strike him. There underlined was the words ‘rose’ and then ‘enchantment?’ right next to it. In the rush of figuring out that Anthony was the serpent in the garden, Aziraphale had completely neglected to go over the particulars of the spell. In the story, the rose had served as a vehicle to serve the passage of time, a silent ticking clock counting down until the beast could never return human again. 

Aziraphale shuddered to think that Anthony could never turn human again, but at least he could turn back into a man at night. He read the words ‘enchanted rose’ again, and bit his lip in thought. It was possible that there was a time limit to Anthony’s curse as well as his own, but there was something else to consider as well. 

In the story, the enchanted rose had been the centerpiece of the spell itself. The main motif in the story that the fairy had cast her spell on. What if there was such an object here in the chateau? 

Aziraphale rubbed his chin at the thought, and leaned back into his chair. An object that tethered a spell, now that was idea. Aziraphale flipped through his notes regarding other fairy tales. There was the enchanted mirror in the Snow White story that was used as a looking glass. There was also the cursed needle on the spinning wheel that sent Sleeping Beauty into her hundred year sleep. Aziraphale read over his notes on that particular story again, taking note of the cursed needle. Although she was cursed from infancy, the spell didn’t truly take effect until she pricked her finger on the needle. If that was true in the story, what if the reverse could be true as well?

Emboldened, Aziraphale flipped to a fresh sheet of parchment and began scribbling down ideas. He wrote down ‘magical object’, and then ‘spell’ next to that. Underneath spell he wrote and underlined ‘tether?’ 

He tapped his pen on the parchment, thinking deeply. There was something he was missing, just one more piece of the puzzle until he could get the entire picture into focus. 

He circled ‘tether’ for good measure. 

‘A tether, an anchor perhaps?’ he thought.

He wrote down the word ‘anchor’ next to ‘tether’. A weight, a point of fixation, a conduit for the magic perhaps. Like lightning, the thought appeared in Aziraphale head. Suddenly the picture became clear.

Next to ‘anchor’ he wrote ‘conduit’, underlined it, and circled it for good measure. He flipped the page and wrote it again at the very center of the parchment in big bold letters. He circled it and then drew a line stemming from it and wrote ‘enchanted rose’ in one corner of the paper, giving it it’s own little bubble. He drew another line from the word ‘conduit’ and lead to another corner bubbled with the word ‘cursed needle’. He did it again with the words ‘enchanted object’ in another bubble. Finally, he drew one last line in the final corner of the paper with a large question mark bubbled at the center.

Aziraphale looked at his sheet of paper graphing his thoughts and smiled. A new idea began to form. What if there was an object, a conduit for the magic that tethered the spell together here in the chateau? What if there was something that was holding the magic altogether, like an anchor holding a ship from drifting out to sea?

The idea excited Aziraphale in a way he hadn’t felt since he figured out that Anthony was transformed into the serpent at night. His heart thudded in his chest and for the first time in weeks, and he felt hope spring anew.

Perhaps there was still something to learn from these old stories, stories that seemed to have a certain magic all their own. Anthony and he might be living out a nightmare rather than a fairy tale here in the chateau, but perhaps the same rules applied. If he could find that anchor, that tether that kept all of the magic here together, then he could break it, or at least be one step closer to breaking the strange power that affected them both.

Looking down at his notes Aziraphale smiled at the thought. The sun had not yet gone down, and surely Anthony was still outside wandering about the garden and enjoying the warm sunlight. They could find a way out of this mess. All Aziraphale had to do was find the link keeping it all together. 

They’d break it together, they had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done. I would like to thank my wonderful beta whichwitchery for a fantastic job editing this story. This wouldn't be possible without her. As always sorry for the delay but I hope the rest of you had a good holiday this month. There are more chapters to come and I look forward to working on this story more in the coming year. Tell me what you guys think if you have the time!


	9. Chapter 9

Aziraphale relayed his theory to Anthony that night. He got a sharp gasp in response so he figured he was on the right track.

“I know you can’t tell me for sure, since I haven’t fully figured it out yet.” Aziraphale said. “But I’ll do my best to break the magic Anthony, I swear it.” He vowed, and grasped Anthony’s hand tightly in his own.

Anthony’s hand trembled in his grasp and Aziraphale heard him let out a deep rattling sigh. 

“You’re a miracle Angel,” he said at last, when he got his wits about him.

Aziraphale flushed at his words, and was unable to keep a smile off of his face. He woke up early the next morning and got started on his idea right away. The sun was not yet fully risen in the sky and Anthony was still asleep in his serpent form on the bed. Aziraphale took care to dress and leave the room as quietly as he could before leaving.

He skipped the rooms they used the most frequently, having spent nearly all of his time in them thus far. If he had to inspect them, he’d do so later on. Aziraphale walked until clean plush carpet gave way to old moldering cloth and dusty upholstery. Anthony had not yet restored this part of the manor. Aziraphale kept a careful eye out while walking down the hall. 

The hallway didn’t seem to contain anything special, just broken windows with their shutters hanging off their hinges. He looked around carefully nonetheless. When that yielded no results, he began his work with the nearest unoccupied room. It was just down the hall from the library.

It was an old sun room greatly touched by time. It had five large windows looking out towards the garden, with thin, translucent white curtains that had many dark stains and tears. 

The wooden floorboards were more grey than brown from all of the dust and debris pouring in from the broken windows. Aziraphale could feel the warm air from the garden floating in from them.

The sound of birdsong greeted him when he tentatively stepped inside. He remained careful of any loose or broken floorboards. He peered outside the dirty curtains, and got a clear view of Anthony’s collection of birth baths. 

The room contained a number of wood and wicker chairs, along with a small round wooden table and an old grey sofa. The sofa had one moldering embroidered pillow missing a decent amount of beads. Upon careful inspection, it appeared to have once been made of shiny yellow beads and thread, now since a more muted yellow-grey.

The most striking part of the room, however, was the dried out vine and foliage that crept in from the garden. It snaked in from one large broken window and clutched at the ceiling in its grasp, covering the other part of the wall and neighboring window with it as well.

“Oh Anthony will not be pleased with you,” he muttered under his breath, as he gazed up at the tangled wild thing. 

The room could use a good sweeping, and new windows and floorboards as well. Not for the first time Aziraphale inwardly thanked Anthony for his magic. He wouldn’t know the first thing to repairing the room to its former glory. As it stood, it wouldn’t hurt to mention it to Anthony later that night. 

A sun room as lovely as this one would make a fine place for Aziraphale to relax and read his books. Perhaps Anthony and him could play some games together as well. There might be a deck of cards or backgammon board lying around the manor. If not, Aziraphale could surely request Anthony to whip up one, if he would be so kind.

Shaking the thought from his head, Aziraphale set off to work. To start, he righted some of the chairs that had fallen over. He inspected the wood of each one, keeping an eye out for any magical symbols or runes, or anything of that nature. 

He felt a bit silly as he did so, but nevertheless, he persisted. The chairs didn't really yield him any results, so he moved on. He checked the wooden table, brushing off away the film of dust on it with a torn off piece of curtain. There was nothing there either. 

He peeked under the sofa and couch cushions, and cringed at the grime and dead bugs he found hidden underneath. He hastily put them back in place.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” he muttered under his breath.

He looked around the room some more, cracking open the broken shutters and peering around every corner, but after a time, he admitted defeat. He left the sun room feeling distinctly more dirty than he had before. He left the crumbling hallway and back into the lived in portion of the manor, happy to be free of the dusty stale air.

He met Anthony in the kitchen who looked up curiously from where he was curled under the table.

“Just did a bit of poking around. There’s a lovely sun room down the hall.” he said, as he pulled out a chair. 

On the table was a plate of oatmeal with fruit topping and a glass of ice tea waiting for him.

“Thank you dear, it looks lovely,” he said.

He dug into his breakfast while Anthony slithered closer towards him. Aziraphale glanced under the table to see him looking curiously at his leather loafers. There was a fine layer of dust covering them. Aziraphale made a note to wipe them clean after working in the garden.

“It is a bit dusty in there,” Aziraphale admitted. 

Anthony hissed in response and curled himself at Aziraphale’s feet. When he glanced down again, he found his shoes bright and clean as if freshly polished.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Aziraphale said. “But thank you, I do appreciate it.” 

Anthony ducked his head in response and lay down on the floor. He waited for Aziraphale to finish his breakfast and clean his plate before the two of them headed out to the garden. Aziraphale retrieved his sunhat and set to work preparing his plot.

It was hard, yet satisfying work, turning over the soil and weeding out any stray plants of rocks to make room for new seed. He spent the rest of the morning clearing the earth, adding another layer of soil he retrieved from a large sack in the garden shed and mixing it together with a large hoe.

By the time it was late afternoon, he was sweaty and achy, but it was finally all done. All excess plants and debris had been removed. Tomorrow he could begin planting his summer seeds.

After working in the garden, Aziraphale put his supplies away in the garden shed and washed his hands of any excess dirt. He ate a light lunch and set about exploring more of the manor. Anthony trailed behind him curiously.

Aziraphale passed the sun room, peering into it one more time before moving past it.

“That was a lovely sun room, once upon a time I’m sure.” Aziraphale explained at Anthony’s curious gaze. “It would be lovely to play some games in there, wouldn’t he?” he asked.

Anthony nodded in agreement.

“We can play games together once I break this spell you’re under, although I’m sure there isn’t anything stopping you from playing as you are now,” he said, thoughtfully.

Anthony hissed in agreement.

“I’ll clean that room up tomorrow,” Aziraphale said, thinking of the large amount of vines that clung to the ceiling and the amount of effort it would take him to remove it. “I want to check out one more room today for now.” 

Next to the broken down sun room was another bedroom. The room was stripped bare of most furniture, save for a crumbling hearth and a turned over wardrobe. Two large windows looked out into the garden. 

Anthony stayed in the doorway, not wanting to drag his long body over the grey dust and crumbled stone from the hearth. He did hiss at Aziraphale as if in question.

“I’m turning over every bit of this manor,” Aziraphale explained, while peering behind the wardrobe. No mysterious symbols or objects made their way known to him. “There has to be some sort of secret hiding somewhere, I just know it.”

Anthony hissed again more insistent this time. He looked at Aziraphale sharply and then looked up. Aziraphale followed his gaze and saw a stray panel directly above him. It clung to the ceiling by a thin piece of wood. Aziraphale quickly jumped away from it.

“Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to clean up around here,” he said eyeing the ceiling dubiously. “Are there any cleaning supplies in the kitchen?” he asked.

Anthony cocked his head to the side.

“Yes I know you can just, work your magic so to speak,” Aziraphale said, waving his hand around the room. “I was just thinking, well, it’s not fair for you to do all of the work is all.”

Anthony nodded in understanding. 

Within the blink of an eye a broom, bucket, and mop appeared before his eyes. Aziraphale took the broom and began sweeping the floor, taking care to avoid any sharp looking tiles. As he swept the dirt and debris into one large pile, he was careful to keep an eye out for anything of interest. 

Sadly, by the time he was done, nothing made itself known. The pile of dirt disappeared just as he was wondering where to put it. It seemed a waste to throw it somewhere in the garden. Aziraphale glanced at Anthony and smiled.

“Thank you, my dear.” he said.

He shook the broom at stray cobwebs hiding in corners and swept the dust out of the fireplace. There was a layer of grime and black soot at the back of it. 

“Does doing too much magic tire you?” Aziraphale asked, after he got on his hands and knees to use the soap and water from the bucket to scrub at the fireplace with a brush Anthony made for him. He had wondered about it for awhile now.

Anthony hissed in response, bobbing his head in agreement.

“I thought as much,” Aziraphale admitted. “We all have our limits after all.”

He scrubbed some more, using a fair bit of elbow grease to reveal the warm brown brick hiding beneath the soot. His arms and knees began to ache from the strain. He was still sore from his work in the garden. Still, he was determined to see this through. He finished cleaning the fireplace and thought of cleaning the rest of the room, but the fatigue in his body made him decide to leave the rest of the cleaning for another day.

“I think that’s all I can manage for today,” Aziraphale said, feeling winded. “I can do more tomorrow.”

Anthony nodded in agreement. Aziraphale took the supplies from the room. He shook out the dirt from the broom outside and dumped the murky water from the bucket in a corner of the garden that was mostly dirt and rock, with Anthony’s okay.

“Still planning that part out?” he asked, once all the supplies were put away in a supply closet near the kitchen.

Anthony nodded.

“Well, let me know what you decide to plant there, although I’m sure anything you plant will be lovely.”

Anthony ducked his head bashfully.

“I think I need a bath soon,” Aziraphale sighed, taking in the rumpled and dirty state of his clothes. There was dirt on his from kneeling in the garden, as well as the dirt and soot from the spare bedroom.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said.

Aziraphale journeyed back to the master bedroom and stripped off his dirty clothes. He drew himself a warm bath and washed all the grime and sweat from his body. By the time he was dressed more appropriately for dinner, it was early evening.

He entered the kitchen eager to start cooking when he stopped in place. The the table had already been set. A white tablecloth with lace trimming covered it. At the center of the table, the usual vase of flowers picked from the garden had been replaced by a long white thin candle in a golden holder.

On the table, a full three course meal waited for him. He drew closer to the table and found Anthony curled up in his own chair at the opposite end of the table.

“Oh Anthony, you shouldn’t have,” he breathed.

Anthony shook his head in disagreement.

“Still, this is very sweet of you.” Aziraphale said, pulling out a chair.

He tried the soup first, a chilled pea soup with shrimp, before moving on to the main dish, a lovely seared steak. Anthony watched him with a careful eye as he ate, his golden eyes flashing with warmth every time Aziraphale made a noise of appreciation.

“Oh this is just lovely,” Aziraphale sighed when he took the first bite of the steak. It was warm and tender. 

The dessert was scrumptious as well, a cup of chocolate mousse with whip cream and shavings of chocolate on top. Aziraphale enjoyed his meal thoroughly, especially the dessert. He smiled at Anthony from across the table, taking care to compliment his work. He was still learning how to cook himself, but Anthony could whip up delectable meals whenever he pleased. It was certainly a useful skill. 

After dinner, Aziraphale moved to clean up, but suddenly all of the plates and dishes vanished. He shot a look at Anthony.

“You can let me help you out once in a while, you know. You don’t have to spoil me.” He said.

Anthony ducked his head down sheepishly.

Aziraphale patted him on the head. They moved to the living room to listen to music together, before Aziraphale called it a night and turned in to bed. He was awoken again later that night when Anthony crawled in beside him.

“Thank you again for dinner,” Aziraphale said.

“You’re welcome,” Anthony said, but his voice sounded strained.

Aziraphale frowned. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, just tired is all.” Anthony responded quickly.

“Okay,” Aziraphale said. 

He lay awake for a while, listening to Anthony’s breathing even out, worried. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep.

The next day Aziraphale woke up early. He glanced at Anthony, back in serpent form, passed out beside him.

He dressed quietly and exited the room. He had a busy day ahead of him. He ate a quick breakfast of eggs and toast and set out to work in the garden. He planted more of his summer crops until he began to tire, leaving the remainder for another day.

After working in the garden, he enjoyed an early lunch, and kept an eye on the door for Anthony. Usually by now he’d enter the room or enjoy the sun in the garden. It was another beautiful summer day, after all. Despite the late hour, he had yet to make an appearance.

Aziraphale was beginning to get a bit worried. He finished his lunch, put away his plate, and ventured back to the master bedroom. Anthony was still huddled beneath the blankets.

Aziraphale nudged him carefully. Anthony’s head poked out of the covers and nuzzled against Aziraphale’s hand.

“Oh you poor thing,” Aziraphale said. “Are you not feeling well,” 

Anthony nodded is head in response before laying it back down against the pillow. 

“Are you ill? Should I get you some medicine?” Aziraphale asked, his mind suddenly racing with possibilities.

Anthony shook his head on the pillow hissing in response. Aziraphale couldn’t really parse out his meaning. Not for the first time, he wished Anthony could still speak when he was transformed. 

“So you’re not sick then?” he asked again.

Anthony nodded his head.

“Are you tired?” he asked, thinking of Anthony’s comment on the night before.

Anthony nodded his head again in response.

“Well, get some rest then. I’ll be back in a bit if you need anything.”

He stroked Anthony’s head lightly a few times before leaving the room. He’d have to ask Anthony what was wrong later that night and get a straight answer out of him. 

Aziraphale went to the supply closet and took out a broom and dust pan. He thought that he’d sweep up the sun room and clean it a bit, to prep it for Anthony to fix. But when he went down the hall, he found something odd. Where before, the area of the hall that had been in disarray seemed to now be in order. Aziraphale was certain that this section of the hall was crumbled and decayed just the other day, but now, the carpet looked brand new and all of the windows had been repaired.

He got an uneasy feeling in his stomach as he walked down the hall. An idea began to form in his mind. He walked down further and saw that the results were the same. Everything looked brand new. He found the door to the sun room. The wood was bright, as if someone had given it a good polish.

He opened the door to the room and sighed at the sight before him. Everything inside had been righted again, as if he had stepped back in time. The foliage clinging to the ceiling had completely disappeared. 

Sunlight shone in from the large windows, which were now cleaned and repaired. The tiling of the room had been fixed, as well as the chairs and end table. A new carpet had been added atop the tile, blue and grey intricately patterned with ivy and fern motifs. The sofa was clean, as well as the pillow resting on it. Just as Aziraphale, thought the embroidery was indeed a bright yellow color 

Aziraphale took in the state of the room and for once, was not pleased. He closed the door to the sun room and marched to the guest room with a hollow pit in his stomach. Further along the hallway was the same as before. Everything looked clean and refurbished.

He opened the door to the bedroom and sighed at the sight before him. Just like the sun room, everything had been restored. The crumbled fireplace had been fixed, not a stone out of place, and its color was renewed back to a vibrant red. The tiling of the room was clean and smooth. The window had been repaired, and the wardrobe had been righted and restored.

Other furniture had been added as well. There was now a cream colored canopy bed with plush powder blue pillows. A vanity and chair had been added on the other side of the room with a large ornate mirror with gold trimming. Near the window was a low empty bookcase and plush armchair with a throw over it. 

Aziraphale took in the state of the room and frowned. He glanced again at the bookshelf and throw over the chair, tartan as well. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath to settle himself. He closed the door to the room, and marched back down the hall. 

As he approached the master bedroom again, he set aside his broom and dustpan by the side of the door. 

“What have you done?” Aziraphale asked Anthony.

Anthony lifted his head from the pillow with an air of utter confusion about him.

“The sun room and guestroom are all done up and you’re exhausted. Do you want to explain anything to me?” he asked, pointedly.

Anthony ducked his head back into the covers, and shifted on the bed.

Aziraphale sighed deeply. He went over to the side of the bed and sat onto the edge heavily. Anthony scooted over a bit to grant him more room. They sat together in silence. Aziraphale could feel Anthony’s long body shifting uncomfortably. He let him squirm a bit, feeling a little less than charitable.

“Is that bedroom supposed to be for me?” he finally asked, quietly. 

Anthony jerked his head at Aziraphale’s words. He rose from beneath the covers and looking at Aziraphale. Aziraphale stared him down patiently. Anthony fidgeted in place, his head bobbing a bit, before nodding. 

Aziraphale sighed at the admission. His heart felt heavy and sad. He felt his body slump more heavily into the mattress beneath him.

“Do you not- I mean. I suppose I have overstayed my welcome a bit,” he admitted. 

Anthony reared his head back in alarm. He flicked his tongue out and shifted anxiously on the bed. 

“I have been making myself at home in your bed,” Aziraphale continued. “It’s not unreasonable for you to want your own personal space-”

Aziraphale was cut off as Anthony moved towards him, laying his head into his lap. Aziraphale froze at the movement for a moment, stunned. Anthony looked up at him with big golden eyes.

“I saw the tartan throw,” Aziraphale continued. “It’s okay if you want your space back.” 

Anthony shook his head. 

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale said, helplessly. 

Anthony shook his head again. He flickered his tongue out in agitation. 

Aziraphale sighed in frustration and ran a hand over Anthony’s cool scales. He chewed on his lip in concentration.

“So you don’t want me to use the other room then?” He reasoned, when he got his wits about him.

Anthony nodded his head in agreement. 

“Then why all of that,” Aziraphale asked, gesturing his hand out to the other side of the room where the guest room lie. 

Anthony hissed lowly and buried his head in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale continued to pat his head. 

“I wish I could understand you,” he admitted. 

Anthony hissed again, the sound distinctly more agitated this time.

Despite the tense mood, Aziraphale couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at his moodiness. 

“Why don’t we discuss this later then?” He said instead. “I think we can understand each other better when you can speak more freely.” 

Anthony looked back up at him, his golden eyes large and unblinking. He nodded his head shyly. 

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Aziraphale said. “Would you like me to make you something?”

Anthony moved to shake his head then paused. He nodded his head shyly. 

“Would a bit of sausage be alright?” he asked. He remembered that snakes were carnivores.

Anthony nodded his head again.

“I’ll be right back then,” Aziraphale said, patting his head and getting up from the bed. “Don’t strain yourself next time,” he said over his shoulder as he moved to the doorway.

Anthony slumped down low again. Aziraphale smiled and left the room. He heated up a few sausages in the pan back in the kitchen and placed them on a plate. He fetched a cup of water with a wide rim too, thinking that the salt in them might make Anthony thirsty.

He returned back to the bedroom and presented the food to Anthony. He perked up at the sight of it, and happily dug in. Aziraphale was strangely fascinated, if a little nauseated, as he watched Anthony swallow the sausages whole in big gulps. He remembered Anthony mentioning that he ate the vermin in his garden as well, and he felt a bit sorry for the poor things.

After finishing the sausages, he leaned his head towards the cup of water. He flicked his tongue at the water before placing his face closer. As he drank from the cup, the sides of his face fanned in and out. When he drank his fill, the glass was half empty.

Anthony looked back up at him. 

“Do you still want to sleep?” Aziraphale asked. 

Anthony shook his head.

“Well then why don’t we relax in the lovely sun room you made for us.” Aziraphale suggested. “There’s no sense in letting all of your hard work go to waste.”

Anthony nodded and slid off of the bed. They stopped off at the kitchen so Aziraphale could wash the plate and glass quickly by hand, and he gave Anthony a sharp look when he looked at them for a moment too long.

“No more magic for you today,” he said, firmly. 

Anthony wilted a bit at his tone. Aziraphale clucked his tongue at his guilt, but remained firm. Any more magic, and Anthony might well and truly hurt himself. They retired to the sun room. The light shone in through its wide windows. One of them was cracked open to allow for a nice warm breeze to waft through. 

Anthony settled into the sofa while Aziraphale sat in one of the wicker chairs with soft cushions. Anthony rested his head on the canary yellow pillow and closed his eyes, immediately falling back into a doze. 

Aziraphale smiled at the sight. The room was warm from the afternoon sun. Aziraphale got up from his chair briefly to look at the collection of magazines Anthony conjured on the table across the room. There was some cooking magazines, as well as some housekeeping and fashion magazines. Most of the fashion magazines seemed to be advertised towards women, one illustration showing a beautiful young lady with long hair done up and a fashionable cut dress. the painted illustrations of the models were lovely looking. Aziraphale never knew that Anthony cared for women's fashion but he could see why he would. The dresses were long and elegant looking, the artist doing a good job portraying different styles.

There were a few magazines advertised towards men as well but Aziraphale skipped them both and picked up a ‘House and Garden’ magazine instead. It boasted a painting of a large red brick cottage with an accompanying garden in the front of it although Aziraphale conceded Anthony’s was far superior. 

He read through the magazine, a lovely little thing with a surprising amount of articles. He read about deciding the design of a home and accompanying furnishings even though he felt he probably wouldn’t need to heed it’s advice. 

There was another article on maintaining household appliances. Aziraphale paid careful attention to the paragraph detailing how to maintain his gas stove top oven, not wanting to leave all upkeep around the house entirely up to Anthony. Apparently vinegar and water was a great solution to cleaning any bits of food that fell out of the pan and into the grate of the stove. 

Aziraphale read for the rest of the afternoon, taking mental notes for any useful tips to upkeep the house. They enjoyed their time together well into the afternoon. At one point Anthony did finally wake up. He looked curiously at Aziraphale’s magazine. 

“Would you like to read it to?” he asked pausing in his reading on how to properly varnish wood furniture.

Anthony nodded in response. Aziraphale got up from the wicker chair and sat next to Anthony on the sofa. He moved the yellow pillow to the side to make room and sat next to Anthony. Anthony read over his shoulder as Aziraphale continued to read the article on up keeping old wood furniture. He looked at Anthony every now and again to see if he was still interested or if he should turn the page.

“Not terribly exciting, but useful to know,” Aziraphale said. 

Anthony hissed in response. They spent the rest of the afternoon reading together. Aziraphale skipping to articles on garden upkeep laughing at Anthony hissing in disapproval at suggestions like keeping a careful eye on diseased plants and removing any imperfections so the rest can grow.

“I thought you agreed with this,” Azirpahale said pointing to tips on how to identify and remove plants suffering from common garden diseases.

Anthony hissed once more shaking his head thoroughly.

“Let me guess, it’s the plant’s fault if it gets ill?” Aziraphale said.

Anthony hissed again and nodded emphatically. Aziraphale laughed at his response. 

“That’s just like you,” he smiled.

Anthony and him spent the remainder of the day relaxing in the lounge before the sun began to set once more. They ate a late dinner together, one that Aziraphale insisted on cooking with a pointed look Anthony’s way. 

Dinner was filleted some salmon stored in the ice box with garnished with lemon and a side of rice. It took some doing for Aziraphale to figure out how to boil the rice over the stove and nearly burned it in the process, but it turned out alright. 

Anthony skipped the rice, however, in favor of the salmon, which he again ate whole. Aziraphale politely looked away when Anthony ate, choosing instead to focus on his own plate to not lose his appetite. 

Anthony looked ready to fall out of his chair by the time dinner was over. Aziraphale washed up quickly and motioned him back towards the master bedroom. Anthony lethargically followed him. He quickly climbed into the bed and huddled under the covers as soon as Aziraphale opened the door to the room.

Aziraphale went to the bathroom to bathe and prepared for bed, choosing a light silk set of sky blue night clothes for the warmer weather. 

He settled into bed beside Anthony. The door to the room was only open a crack, a sliver of light illuminating the room. He watched Anthony breathe in and out beside him. He had been exhausted all day. Aziraphale hoped he would be a little less winded the following day. It hurt his heart to see Anthony so tired and drawn.

Aziraphale watched Anthony sleep carefully until the final light faded. The dark of the room grew. Aziraphale heard the soft click of the door close shut. The shadows grew thick and impenetrable. Aziraphale didn’t know how little light still illuminated the room until it was entirely gone. The dark felt thick and all encompassing, and Aziraphale felt a strange tingle go down his spine.

All of a sudden, his eyes felt heavy. Aziraphale didn’t fight it, feeling oddly soothed. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

*** 

Aziraphale woke up later that night to Anthony shifting beside him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up in bed.

“Feeling better now,” he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

“I am now Angel,” Anthony agreed. 

Aziraphale sighed in relief. “Well good, I was worried.” he admitted.

Anthony shifted beside him and Aziraphale felt a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he whispered.

Aziraphale flushed at the touch. “Well it’s all alright now. Just don’t overwork yourself like that again.” he said.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Well, good.” Aziraphale said. “Well, do you want to explain to me what that other room you made is for?” he asked.

Anthony sighed, and took his hand away from Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale frowned at the loss of warmth, before feeling it again when Anthony took one of his hands in his.

“I thought it would be something you wanted,” he admitted.

“Me?” Aziraphale asked, incredulously.

“Yesss Angel, for you.” Anthony said. “I thought you’d want a room of your own. 

Aziraphale blinked at the admission. He felt a warmth bubbling in his chest and tried to press his lips together. Despite his best efforts, a quick laugh burst out. He covered his mouth with his hands, mortified.

“Oh Anthony, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” He said, squeezing Anthony’s hand in apology. “It’s just, well, I have no idea where you got that impression is all.”

Anthony was quiet for a long moment. Aziraphale started to worry. He heard a deep sigh, and then an incredulous laugh.

“You’re right Angel, I guess I just saw things that weren’t there.” Anthony admitted.  
.  
“You did.” Aziraphale agreed. “You’ve been a wonderful host Anthony, inviting me into your home. I like, well I mean-” he paused, feeling flustered. “I like spending time with you.”

Aziraphale couldn’t see Anthony’s face, but he could feel the warmth of his hand in his and his gentle strength when he squeezed it. 

“I’m glad you’re here Angel,” Anthony whispered. “I know we can’t leave the manor, but I never want you to feel trapped with me.”

“Never,” Aziraphale said. 

“Well, then we’re in agreement then.” Anthony said. 

He unclasped his hand from Aziraphale. Aziraphale let it happen, although part of him didn’t want Anthony to let go. 

“It’s been a long day. Why don’t we get some sleep.”

“You’ve slept most of it away anyway,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but tease. “But yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

Aziraphale and Anthony settled back into bed. Aziraphale could hear the gentle rhythm of Antony’s breathing as he quickly fell asleep. Aziraphale stayed up for a little while longer. He listened to him breathe carefully, and thought of the spare bedroom Anthony had mistakenly thought he wanted.

It might be a bit strange, sharing a home and a bed with a man he couldn’t see, but despite that, there wasn’t anywhere else Aziraphale would rather be. Aziraphale felt that he could weather any storm as long as he was by Anthony’s side.

Once Aziraphale found a way to break the spell, once Aziraphale had secured his memory, and he and Anthony could venture outside their ornate prison and into the world once more, a spare room wouldn’t be too bad. 

As Aziraphale settled beneath the blanket and closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but imagine a future together. It was possible that after the spell was broken, Anthony might want to venture out into civilization and meet other people. Aziraphale didn’t like the thought of it, but couldn’t turn away from the possibility.

Yet these past few months together, despite his lack of memory to compare it to, might just be some of the best few months of his life. He enjoyed Anthony’s company, and he didn’t think he was too bold in assuming Anthony enjoyed his company too. 

Maybe they could venture out into the unknown together, experience new things and meet new people together. And when they tired of traveling, they could always come back here, for a time, not trapped but comfortable. Free to come and go as they pleased. 

‘A guest room would be handy for company,’ Aziraphale couldn’t help but think to himself as he closed his eyes in the dark. He just couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but envision a future with Anthony. 

Because now, suddenly things were different. Now suddenly when Aziraphale thought of making new memories, he couldn’t bring himself to picture making them without Anthony by his side.

As Aziraphale’s thoughts raced in the dark, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. If any one was out there, if anyone was listening, heaven help him above, Aziraphale couldn’t deny it anymore. He was falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! Thank you guys so much for your patience as always. I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

The next day Anthony was much more alert, after sleeping the better part of the previous day. He accompanied Aziraphale at breakfast, and again when Aziraphale finished planting the remainder of his summer seeds. It was early afternoon by the time they were all planted and properly watered. Aziraphale wiped his brow and surveyed his work. The dirt was freshly turned over from planting, and the dirt where Aziraphale had watered it a rich dark brown. Aziraphale couldn’t wait to see his beautiful plants grow.

He looked down at Anthony lying out in the sunlight and smiled. None of this would have been possible without his help. Anthony opened an eye and looked at him curiously when he felt the weight of Aziraphale’s gaze. Aziraphale knelt down in the grass and patted his head. 

Anthony’s eyes closed lazily at Aziraphale’s touch. He put his head back down on the ground and went back to sleep. Aziraphale busied himself making them lunch. He cut up some beets left in the larder and roasted them in olive oil salt and pepper on the stove. He added them to a spinach salad with red wine vinaigrette and almonds.

He left a plate for Anthony on the table when he chose to eat and set off. He wore simpler clothes again today, a pair of thin brown trousers and a simple white linen shirt, suitable for getting dirty and tidying up around the manor. He started tidying up the kitchen. He took the vinegar out of the larder and a simple bowl out of the cabinet. He removed the grates out of the stove and poured about a cup of vinegar into the bowl, and a half a cup of water. 

He took out a rag from out under the sink, rolled up his sleeves, and dipped it into the mixture. He diligently scrubbed at the leftover oil and other stains on the stove. He didn’t want to take Anthony’s kindness for granted. He had gotten too used to clothes that cleaned themselves and shoes that shone all on their own. 

He wanted Anthony to take it easier, to let Aziraphale help around maintaining the house, but Aziraphale was beginning to suspect Anthony just couldn’t help but overwork himself. Well, if that was the case, then it was up to Aziraphale to step up and look after him.

After wiping down the stove top and putting back the metal grates, Aziraphale moved onto his next project. He went to the supply closet to gather the tools he would need. He grabbed a broom, a pan, a bucket, and a mop. He found a box of powdered soap, and he took that as well. He left the soap and bucket by the door of the closet to be collected later.

He took the others and walked down the hallway back towards the front of the manor. Today he’d work on cleaning the foyer. It was a larger project, but he wanted to work on it without Anthony doing all of the work. He left the broom, mop and pan against the wall and went back to the kitchen for the bucket and soap. 

He filled the bucket halfway with water at the kitchen sink and poured in a generous amount of soap. He lugged the bucket back to the front foyer of the house, going slow to not spill any onto the nice carpet Anthony had fixed up. He put the bucket to the side when he got there and took in the room with a critical eye. 

The room was just as much of a mess as the first time Aziraphale saw it. There were many loose tiles and piles of dust on the floor, especially between the stairs of the twin staircase. There was shattered glass across the room on the floor where the windows had been blown in by strong winds. Cobwebs clung between the faded iron railings of the staircase and ceiling.

Of course, at the center of it all was the statue of the two angels wrestling. Aziraphale wrinkled his nose at the sight of it. It was still in perfect condition, and just as unsightly as always. 

“I don’t know what Anthony sees in you,” he muttered at the ugly thing.

Turning away from the statue, he began to work. Aziraphale decided to tidy the loose tiles and debris first, so he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over any loose marble like the few times he had when he had ventured out of the manor. He started by collecting the loose tiles, swept the smaller ones into a pile at the foot of the stairs, and grabbing the larger ones with his hands. 

Aziraphale paused in his work when he very nearly sliced his hand on a loose piece. He grumbled to himself, taking in the filthy state of his hands and grey dust under his fingertips.

“Gloves, why didn’t I think to get gloves?” he asked himself.

He paused his work and went back to the kitchen. He washed his hands thoroughly in the sink, taking care to scrape the dirt out underneath his nails. He inspected them carefully for any small cuts that he might not have noticed, but was glad to find none. Afterwards, he went out to the garden and towards the garden shed.

Anthony looked up at him curiously as he passed him by. 

“Nothing to worry about, just forgot something is all,” Aziraphale assured him.

He popped inside the shed and snatched the gloves that hung on a hook next to the door. He nodded to Anthony as he went back inside. After going back to the foyer he set off to work again. Now with his hands properly protected he made far quicker work in removing the loose tiles from the floor.

Even with the new protection to his hands, it still took him a while to sweep and gather every loose tile into a neat pile on one of the twin staircases. He sat down on the bottom step for a few minutes when the one was done to catch his breath. 

This was turning out to be a lot more work than he initially thought. He looked to the other staircase still teeming with debris, and then the large pile he had already amassed nearby. He ran his tongue over his suddenly parched lips. He grumbled at the thought of having to go back towards the kitchen again for something he had forgotten.

Just when he was psyching himself up to get up and get himself a glass of water, he heard a low hissing noise. He looked up and around him to the entrance of the room, and found Anthony peering down at him from the top of the staircase.

“Oh, hello,” Aziraphale called out to him. “Come to check in on me?”

Aziraphale got up and patted down his trousers from any stray dust and grime. He walked back up the staircase, now a bit easier to navigate that the stray debris had been removed. 

“Come to inspect my work?” he asked when he got to the top of the staircase. “I think it’s coming along myself.”

Anthony looked up at him and didn’t respond. He looked at Aziraphale carefully. 

“Are you worried?” Aziraphale asked cocking his head to the side. “I promise not to strain myself too much, unlike others,” he couldn’t help but tease.

Anthony ducked his head in embarrassment and hissed in protest. Aziraphale couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter at the sound. Anthony glared up at him indignantly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Aziraphale apologized. “You’ve not come to help out have you?” he asked.

Anthony nodded, causing Aziraphale to sigh. “Alright, but don’t do too much magic this time, okay?”

Anthony nodded enthusiastically in response. 

“Hmm, well you can start by getting rid of that,” Aziraphale said, pointing to the large pile of debris at the bottom of the staircase.

Anthony nodded again and looked at the pile. Aziraphale blinked and one moment it was there, and the next it was gone.

“Lovely,” he said. He ran a tongue over his dry lips. “And, well I’d like some water too,” he admitted, sheepishly.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale and nodded. Aziraphale blinked and then felt a cool weight enter his hand. There nudging in his open palm was a glass bottle of water with a rubber stopper. It floated a bit in the air waiting for him to take.

Aziraphale quickly grasped the bottle with both hands and removed the stopper. He drank greedily, sighing in relief when he was done. 

“Thank you Anthony, you’re always so helpful.”

Anthony hissed at him happily in response. Aziraphale finished about half of the water before getting back to work. He cleared the rest of the other staircase, Anthony making the pile of debris vanish when he was done.

After clearing the debris Aziraphale got to work sweeping any excess dust off the staircase. It took some time trying to sweep it off of each step and down onto the next one. Anthony watched, occasionally vanishing the pile he was working on before he could get it down the staircase. A well placed glare after one too many vanishings stopped him, however.

“Wait until I’ve finished at least,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony ducked his head in apology, opting to watch Aziraphale finish the rest of his work. He vanished the pile of dust when he was done with one staircase, and then again after Aziraphale finished the other staircase.

He finished the rest of his water when all of the sweeping was done. He wiped his brow with sleeve of his shirt, rolling them up again from where they became loose. He felt the weight of Anthony’s eyes on him, and looked over curiously. Anthony looked up at him with his large gold eyes. 

“Is something the matter?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony quickly ducked his head down and averted his gaze. Aziraphale looked after him curiously for a moment, before shrugging it off. After the sweeping was done, Aziraphale was beginning to feel quite fatigued. Cleaning was hard work, no wonder Anthony was so tired the day before!

Aziraphale decided to mop the upper part of the foyer of the staircase before calling it a day. He took the mop and dipped it in the bucket, carefully scrubbing the floor clean. Despite all of his sweeping there was still quite a bit of dust and dirt littering the floor, especially in cracks between tiles. Before long, the bucket became murky grey from the many times Aziraphale dipped the mop back into it.

Anthony slithered out of the way as he works, not wanting to get wet. By the time Aziraphale was wet, he had fallen back to the doorway where the tile met the soft carpet of the hallway. 

After a good long time mopping up, Aziraphale was finally done. He sighed in relief, his muscles aching from the strain of all of the cleaning he had done. 

“I think that’s it for today,” he called out to Anthony, who was still huddled in the entryway. 

Anthony nodded in agreement. The bucket quickly emptied itself of the murky water and mop that had turned a dark grey was now as good as before. Aziraphale gathered his supplies, wincing at the foot prints his shoes made in the wet flooring. 

He joined Anthony in the entryway and together they went back to the kitchen. Aziraphale put his supplies away, washed his hands from the sweat and grime from cleaning, and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. He sighed in relief, happy to finally be sitting down again. Every muscle he had ached. 

It was already early evening, and Aziraphale was ravenous. Just the thought of getting up from his seat to start cooking dinner made him grimace. He closed his eyes and leaned back further into his seat. Maybe if he sat for a bit longer, he’d be able to gather his strength.

It was the smell of fresh garlic that Aziraphale open his eyes. There, in front of him, was a large bowl of pasta and assorted seafood, a white folded up napkin and cutlery and a glass of red wine.

Aziraphale looked over at Anthony, who was still lingering at the kitchen doorway. He looked at Aziraphale earnestly and perhaps, with a hint of nervousness.

“Oh all right, a little more magic won’t hurt I suppose,” he said, not having it in him to get angry with Anthony.

The food looked exquisite. Aziraphale placed the napkin in his lap and dug into his meal. The pasta was wonderful, the tomato sauce and garlic lovely but not too strong. The wine was delectable as well. It went down smoothly, and complimented the dish nicely.

Anthony slithered into the opposite seat and watched Aziraphale eat. He had great joy in breaking apart clams and muscles with his hands and scooping the insides out with his fork. The shrimp was lovely as well, thick and juicy to eat.

Before long, Aziraphale had devoured his dinner, although his fingers were stained red with sauce. He wiped them off with his napkin, staining the white fabric a soft red, and polished off the rest of his wine.

“Marvelous,” he said when he was done. “Absolutely wonderful darling, as always.”

Anthony hissed in response, looking at Aziraphale with an all around pleased air to him. Just as Aziraphale went to get up and clean off the dishes, they vanished along with his stained napkin. He gave Anthony a careful look.

“Don’t overdo it now,” he warned him.

Anthony hissed and nodded in agreement, looking far too pleased with himself. 

Aziraphale cleared the table and spent the rest of the evening with Anthony, listening to records and flipping through more housekeeping magazines on Aziraphale’s part. They turned in early for the evening. While there was still some daylight left, Aziraphale took a long bath to wash off all of the sweat and grime he gained during the day. He dried his hair off with a towel and practically fell into bed after, eager for sleep.

He woke up briefly at Anthony’s transformation back into a man for the night. He whispered a low ‘goodnight’ before quickly going back to sleep. The next morning Aziraphale rose early, leaving Anthony, who was still deep in sleep. He watered his garden, noting the basil would need to be harvested once more before long, and then went back inside to start on breakfast.

Anthony had woken up by the time Aziraphale was nearly done with the omelettes he was making. Aziraphale chewed slowly as Anthony gulped down his portion in a few short bites. After clearing breakfast, Aziraphale gathered his supplies once more, rolled up his sleeves, and went back to the foyer.

Coming into the foyer, he immediately noticed something was different. The floor of the upper foyer, while cleaned yesterday, had many pieces of broken and cracked tiles littering it. Now the upper level looked brand new, the tiles all back into place and whole again. Aziraphale stepped closer and looked at the staircase as well. 

It was just the same as the upper flooring. The steps were gleaming as if freshly polished and restored once more. As was the curled iron handlebars that Aziraphale had planned on dusting today. 

He turned around slowly and gave Anthony who had been trailing behind him a pointed look. Anthony didn’t appear cowed however, in fact he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“You’re a menace,” Aziraphale complained.

Anthony tilted his head, his version of a shrug, Aziraphale guessed. Aziraphale sighed, and carefully took his things down the newly made steps. One nice thing about them being fixed was he wouldn’t have to worry about falling down, or tripping on a stray loose tile he might have missed in his cleaning the day before. 

The rest of the room was still a mess, same as yesterday. It seemed Anthony had mostly learned his lesson about overdoing it with the magic, at the very least. Aziraphale immediately got to work collecting the loose broken tiles both with his gloved hands and broom into a neat pile. The foyer below the stairs was far larger than the tiling atop the staircase. It took Aziraphale the better part of an hour to collect all of the stray parts, including broken glass he swept up from beneath the broken windows. 

Once the pile was full, Anthony vanished it with a lazy flick of his tail. Aziraphale waved to him from below the staircase. Anthony opted to watch Aziraphale work from the top step of the left hand staircase. 

Once the bottom floor was swept and debris removed, Aziraphale got his mop and got to work. It was harder work than the day before. The tiling below was far more dirty from the debris that came in from outside through the broken windows. On more than one occasion, Aziraphale had to repeatedly run his mop over a particularly stubborn stain to loosen the dirt. 

Luckily Aziraphale had done some reading the other day to make this easier. Instead of the bucket of soap and water that he made the day before, he filled his bucket with a generous amount of white vinegar and warm water instead. For the stains that refused to leave, he went back to the bottom of the staircase for his cleaning supplies and took out a tin of baking soda Anthony had prepared for him.

He sprinkled a generous amount on the grimiest parts of the floor, letting it sit while he mopped up other parts of the tiling. The mixture of vinegar and water worked well, and after a long time of mopping, and a small break of water and rest, the floor looked far better than it did before.

Aziraphale wiped his brow, half leaning on his mop. The floor was finally almost done, save for the spots he sprinkled with baking soda. He’d let those spots sit for a bit while he caught his breath and cleaned other parts of the foyer. 

He sat down on the lowest step of the left hand staircase again to catch his breath. In the corner of his eye, Anthony slid down the staircase slowly. He stopped just a step shy of where Aziraphale was sitting. Aziraphale patted his head with a smile.

“It’s coming along, don’t you think?” he asked, looking over the fruits of his labor.

Anthony nodded, pushing his head more into Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale indulged him, scratching beneath his chin at one point, and watched Anthony’s eyes close in pleasure. 

Aziraphale patted Anthony one more time with a more critical eye. There were still many water stains and debris hanging from the ceiling. Aziraphale didn’t feel confident cleaning those without a ladder, assuming he didn’t bungle it completely and cause the ceiling to cave in further. The cobwebs and dirt hanging off of the windows and window sills were much more doable, however. After those were done, all he’d have to clean was some light dusting around the room and his work would be done.

He made to get up once more and get started, but standing up made him perfectly eye level to the monstrosity he had tried very hard to ignore. There in front of him, was the unsightly monstrosity that Anthony loved so much. Aziraphale looked it over, watching one angel pin the other down, and sighed looking back to Anthony, who was looking over at Aziraphale curiously.

“Sometimes I just don’t understand your taste,” he admitted, pointing to the large garish thing.

Aziraphale cocked his head to the side, looking over at the statue. He turned his head back to the statue and looked it over for a long moment. He glanced back at Aziraphale, and although his couldn’t really emote much, Aziraphale got the distinct impression Anthony was smirking at him.

“Don’t you start,” Aziraphale said, wagging a finger at Anthony.

Anthony hissed lowly back, the sound almost sounding like a laugh. 

“No accounting for taste,” he muttered under his breath, gathering his cleaning supplies again.

He got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed at the spots where he put down the baking soda with a scrub brush Anthony had conjured for him. His knees and wrists ached from all of the scrubbing and kneeling against the hard tiled flooring, but it was worth it. The worst of the stain lifted underneath Aziraphale’s careful cleaning, and the original white color of the tile shone through.

After scrubbing down the tiles, he went over to the window stills to dust. He took a rag and rubbed down the window stills with the mixture of water and vinegar, the bucket newly filled and clean thanks to Anthony, after having turned a murky grey from all of the mopping earlier. 

After the window stills were cleaned, he dusted the windows properly. The warm breeze from outside blew in through the broken cracks . Aziraphale was careful of the broken cuts of glass when dusting, not wanting to injure his hands. 

It took some time and some careful work before he was satisfied with the state of the windows. He spent the rest of his time dusting corners of cobwebs and other grime. He was well and truly tired by the time he was done. He caught his breath and quickly gulped down the rest of his water. The room looked a lot cleaner than it had before, if still a bit worn. Aziraphale didn’t find any hidden secrets or symbols while cleaning, but that didn’t deter him. There were plenty more rooms in the manor to look through.

Anthony joined him at the bottom of the staircase when he was done. Just like the day before, he magicked all of Aziraphale’s supplies clean. 

“Thank you Anthony,” Aziraphale said, watching the grit and grime remove itself from his things.

Aziraphale gathered his things and he and Anthony set off back upstairs. Aziraphale winced at the ache in his knees and legs, happy to be done with his work. He placed his supplies back in the broom closet and sighed deeply.

“I think I’ll take a bath,” Aziraphale informed Anthony, wincing at the state of his rumpled clothes. “I’ll see you for lunch then?” 

Anthony hissed in response. Aziraphale watched him enter the kitchen and leave through the back door, presumably to terrorize some poor unsuspecting plants. Aziraphale trudged back to the master bedroom, starting the tap for the bath and eagerly stripping of his sweaty clothes.

It took far too long for Aziraphale’s aching body to watch the bath fill. He chose a light rose scented oil and eagerly watched the bath pale pink water. When the tub was finally full, he eased himself into the hot water gratefully.

Aziraphale sighed in relief when his body was fully submerged in the hot water. He felt his aching muscles relax in the heat. Aziraphale spent a good amount of time sitting in the tub and enjoying the hot water before he went to scrub himself clean. Even after wiping all of the sweat and dust from his body, he sat in the tub for a bit longer until the water turned lukewarm and his skin wrinkled.

He drained the tub and toweled himself off lethargically, and fought to keep his eyes open. Standing in front of his wardrobe and deciding what to wear, Aziraphale was seriously considering throwing on his sleep clothes and climbing into bed. It was only the low grumbling of his stomach that had him change his mind at the last moment.

Aziraphale dressed himself in a sky blue shirt and brown slacks with leather shoes. He rolled the sleeves up, which were still a bit damp and warm from the bath. When he entered the kitchen, Anthony already had lunch prepared and was seated in his chair at the kitchen table. Lunch was chicken salad sandwiches with bits of apples, lettuce and rosemary. 

Aziraphale sat down heavily in his chair and nearly inhaled his food while Anthony sat across from him and ate small pieces of chicken off of his plate. Aziraphale only stopped chewing to gulp down cool apple juice out of a glass cup to wash it all down.

“Marvelous as always Anthony, thank you,” he said. 

Anthony hissed in pleasure. Aziraphale was just about to clean up the cutlery when with a flick of Anthony’s tail all of the utensils vanished, presumably placed back into the cabinet newly cleaned. Aziraphale sighed and glanced at Anthony.

“You really spoil me far too much dear,” he said.

Anthony hissed and wiggled out of his chair. They retired to the sun room enjoying the rest of the day’s light. Aziraphale read more housekeeping magazines while Anthony snoozed on the sofa. 

When evening fell, Aziraphale cooked dinner in thanks for all of Anthony’s hard work. He made an easy dish of pasta with cut tomatoes, basil and onion. They ate together, with Anthony clearing away the dishes again before Aziraphale could even protest. Aziraphale drank a fair amount of wine at dinner until he reached a pleasant buzz. They sat in the sitting room for as long as there was daylight, listening to more music, mostly classical for Aziraphale’s sake, and getting steadily sloshed. 

Before the sun had finally set they both stumbled, or in Anthony’s case drunkenly slithered, back to the bedroom. Aziraphale dressed for bed in the bathroom, and brushed the wine from his teeth thoroughly. He settled into the covers with Anthony’s assuring weight beside him and fell asleep.

***

Aziraphale woke up in the middle of the night once more. He turned towards Anthony’s weight beside him in bed.

“Are you awake,” he whispered to him.

“I am,” Anthony answered, although Aziraphale could hear the sleepiness in his voice.

“I won’t trouble you for too long dear,” Aziraphale promised. “I just had one small thing on my mind.” 

He could hear the sound of Anthony sitting up in bed. “What is it?” he asked, sounding more alert now.

“Why that gaudy statue?” he asked, the question weighing on his mind for some months now. 

Anthony barked out a laugh. “That’s what you wanted to know?” he asked.

“Well yes, since it’s been such an affront to my eyes lately.” Aziraphale admitted. 

“It’s art angel,” Anthony said.

“It’s hideous,” Aziraphale shot back.

Anthony laughed again. “I thought it was funny at the time, that’s why I bought it.”

“You bought it?” Aziraphale asked. “When?”

There was silence for a long moment, so long that Aziraphale feared he had offended Anthony somehow.

“A long time ago,” he finally said, his voice heavy with an emotion Aziraphale couldn’t name.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale apologized.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Anthony said.

Aziraphale sighed in relief. “If you say so. You know I don’t like upsetting you dear.”

“I know,” Anthony said. “Do you want to know where I got it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Aziraphale was eager to agree, partially to get rid of the despondent mood.

“I bought it in Rome quite some time ago,” Anthony explained. “I was actually good friends with the artist.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yes, I commissioned the work actually,” Anthony said.

“You commissioned it?” Aziraphale asked incredulously.

“Well it was based off a similar piece he made,” Anthony explained. “I just wanted it slightly different from the original.”

“Different how?” Aziraphale asked, still stunned that Anthony had asked for that terrible statue specifically made for him. 

“I wanted a certain, uh religious motif,” Anthony said.

“Oh the angels,” Aziraphale realized. “You must really like angels then,” Aziraphale said thinking back to the broken angel statue atop the fountain near the front gate.

“I do,” Anthony admitted. “Quite a bit in fact.” 

“Well, sometimes there’s no accounting for taste,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “But if you were friends with the artist, then that makes sense.”

“Don’t care much for angels then?” Anthony said, jokingly.

“Oh I like them well enough I suppose,” Aziraphale said, waving his hand dismissively. “Perhaps not as much as you, I think.”

“Perhaps not,” Anthony agreed.

“I suppose that’s why you used your magic to keep it clean,” Aziraphale wondered out loud.

“Yes,” Anthony agreed. “I didn’t want it to be too damaged.”

“Wait a moment,” Aziraphale said, coming to a sudden thought. “Most of the manor is in ruins, just how long have you been here anyway?” 

Anthony was quiet once more, and again, Aziraphale feared he touched a nerve.

“Not that long actually,” he admitted. 

“Then why is everything falling apart around us? Some things look like they’ve been left to rot for years.” 

Anthony was silent again, but Aziraphale’s mind was too busy racing with the implications to pay that much mind. 

“So you haven’t been here long, but that manor obviously has,” Aziraphale said, slowly working his way through the problem. “Does that mean, you moved in recently?” he reasoned.

“Yesss,” Anthony hissed in response.

“Then, is this even your house?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, I suppose it is now.” Anthony admitted.

“You moved in when it was like this?” Aziraphale asked, waving his hand in the pitch dark as if Anthony could see it.

“Move in is a nice way to put it,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale felt his heart drop to his stomach. “You were forced here,” he realized. “This wasn’t ever actually your home. It’s your prison.” 

Anthony’s answer of silence confirmed it all. 

“‘So you were trapped in a place you didn’t even know,” Aziraphale affirmed.

“Yes, but I like to think I made it my own,” Anthony soothed, taking Aziraphale’s hand comfortingly in his.

Despite his kind words, Aziraphale couldn’t help but fume silently. 

“All of this time, I thought this was your home you were just made to be trapped here.” He admitted. “I never even thought of anything like this.”

“It’s okay,” Anthony whispered, rubbing his thumb into Aziraphale’s hand. 

“It’s not okay!” Aziraphale protested.

“It is because you’re here,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale felt all of his rage quickly leave his body. He flushed hotly at Anthony’s words.

“How do you always know just what to say?” he wondered.

“I don’t always,” Anthony said.

“You do for me,” Aziraphale countered. 

Anthony chuckled and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” Aziraphale said, with newfound determination.

“I know you will,” Anthony said. 

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, before realizing Anthony couldn’t see him. Shortly after they laid down to go to sleep. Anthony rubbed his thumb into Aziraphale’s hand the entire time, until his eyes grew heavy and he couldn’t stay awake anymore. He fell asleep with it’s comforting grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done! Thank you guys so much for waiting. This one was only slightly later than usual as my beta Whichwitchery went on a fabulous ski trip without me (bring me with you next time!) As always I hope you're enjoying the fic. I'll try to post every two weeks or so as I'm juggling a work schedule as well. Let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

Over the next few days Aziraphale watered and tended to his garden, and continued to clean up around the house. After he finished cleaning the foyer, he moved onto the front entrance. He figured he might as well make the front of the house more presentable while he was at it. 

He started by sweeping up all of the leaves and other debris. It took him half of his morning cleaning it all up. The courtyard was large and spacious, but the downside of that meant it needed more of Aziraphale’s attention than other parts of the house. 

After the first day of effort, he uncovered parts of the stone tile beneath. Anthony vanished the pile of broken tiles and leaves he created, and they went back inside for the rest of the day for some well earned rest. 

The following day, Aziraphale focused his attention on pruning and restoring the foliage lining the side of the house around the foyer. In Aziraphale’s eyes, they had grown wild and unsightly. Anthony instructed him in how to help the poor dears the previous night.

He started by cutting the wild thorns and branches down, quickly creating a pile of dead debris by his side. Aziraphale was careful to wear thick gloves and a long thick sleeve shirt to protect himself from any stray thorns. He cut off the old barky stems of thick branches with his shears at an angle, cutting the bushes down from more than half of their height.

Anthony hissed low and threatening to the bushes as he worked, probably warning the bushes to keep their sharp thorns to themselves. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and smiled as he did it. The poor things almost seemed to shake under Anthony’s threats, although it could have been a trick of the light.

Aziraphale was careful for any signs of disease, such as discoloration of leaves, or any insects making their homes in any branches. Thankfully, there weren’t any signs of disease or decay. Aziraphale moved on after pruning the trees and raking any other foliage caught underneath the bushes by going back to his garden shed and fetching a few bags of fertilizer. 

After Aziraphale struggled to carry one of the heavy bags of soil out of the shed, Anthony was quick to summon him a small wheelbarrow to pile his things into. The wheelbarrow was made from a dark grey wood with a coiled snake motif placed on the side.

Aziraphale laughed at the snake carved into the wood and patted Anthony thankfully on the head. He loaded the wheelbarrow with a handful of bags of fertilizer, careful not to make the load too heavy for him to steer it. Aziraphale had wheeled the wheelbarrow up to the back door leading to the kitchen before pausing. Did he really want to push the wheelbarrow and bags of soil through the house? He glanced at the front wheel of the wheelbarrow, and saw that it was already caked in dirt. He frowned at the thought of any dirt falling off onto the beautiful new carpet Anthony made in the hallway. How was he going to get it down the foyer staircase anyway?

Anthony must have sensed his hesitation. He nudged Aziraphale with the butt of his head to catch his attention. Aziraphale looked down curiously. Anthony motioned for Aziraphale to follow him with a jerk of his head. Aziraphale let Anthony lead, pushing the wheelbarrow behind him, and remained careful not to run over his long tail.

Anthony circled around the side of the house and led Aziraphale down a narrow path lined with plots of towering lilac flowers and thick bushes. Aziraphale was careful not to go too fast and veer off the winding cobbled path. Gradually, the path turned into a stretch of thick grass and dirt. After some time of winding through, the surroundings around him became more familiar. 

The grass became wilder, and the color of the earth almost a bit duller. Gone were Anthony’s beautiful plots of flowers. Eventually, Aziraphale could see the edge of the house again, weathered tiles and all. Anthony led Aziraphale through a weathered iron gate about Aziraphale’s height. Withered old vines of ivy clung to it, so much that Aziraphale doubted whether it would open.  
The ivy untangled themselves with a flick of Anthony’s tail and retreated. The gate creaked open. Aziraphale watched in amazement, and thought back to his very first day in the manor. He looked back down to Anthony when they went through the gate together.

“Did you open the gate for me when I first came here?” he asked curiously as they went through the gate.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale, and nodded shyly in response. 

Aziraphale felt a warm rush of affection for him rise up in his chest. “Always looking out for me,” he said with a smile.

Anthony nodded his head in agreement. Aziraphale had a few more questions pop into his mind, but he resolved to ask Anthony later tonight when he could speak properly. 

After going through the back gate, the narrow path became wider and wilder. It wound around the side of the manor. Eventually, the path became overcome with tall wild hedges, just like the ones Aziraphale first saw when approaching the manor. Two larger hedges lined the path like guard posts and widened. The weathered grass beneath his shoes became stone tile once more. In the distance, Aziraphale could see the weathered fountain and the broken angel statue in the center of the courtyard.

“Much better,” he said, looking at Anthony again. “Thank you dear, I really didn’t want to trail any dirt into the house.” 

Anthony hissed in pleasure and nodded his head. Aziraphale approached the rose bushes he was tending to earlier and got straight to work. First, he added a layer of fresh soil at the base of each bush, kneeling in the dirt and spreading it with his hands. When the soil was evenly distributed beneath each bush, he picked up the rake he had placed to the side earlier, and started to move the soil evenly. He was careful not to disturb the rose bush’s shallow roots.

After that was done, and Aziraphale had gone through his bags of soil, he doubled back to his garden shed to retrieve some large bags of mulch. He spread the mixture of wood ships and shredded bark atop the soil he laid down. Anthony had explained to him earlier that the wood would decompose over time, and it would slowly feed the bushes nutrients. 

Once that was done, Aziraphale got his watering can out and headed into the kitchen to fill it up. He sprinkled each bush with a generous amount of water. He found himself feeling a bit winded while heaving a full watering can back and forth through the hidden garden path. So much so that Anthony took pity on him and summoned a small pump hidden beside the edge of the plot of bushes. 

Aziraphale used it gratefully, patting Anthony on the head once more, before finishing his work. By the time he was done, the bushes were shorn down almost a little sadly, but the branches that remained did look healthier than the ones before. Anthony had assured him the night before that in time, they would grow back much healthier.

Aziraphale overlooked his work with a sense of pride. He couldn’t wait for his little rose bushes to flourish and start blooming flowers. Anthony and him retired inside after the work was done, and after a cool bath, spent the rest of the daylight hours in the sun room reading magazines together.

The next day he set his sights on the weathered fountain in the center of the entrance. After cleaning the rest of the courtyard, he turned his attention solely to it. He began by digging out the leaves and debris clogging the fountain, and formed a large pile on the ground. 

By the time he was done on the first day of cleaning, his lower back was killing him from all of the times he had to lean over the fountain to fish everything out. Anthony drew a hot bath for him that night to ease the ache, which Aziraphale sank into gratefully. The next day, he focused his attention on the statue itself. The broken wing for the angel atop the fountain still lay at the bottom pool. Aziraphale attempted to retrieve it, but the heavy material of the statue proved to be too much for him.

With a careful wave of his tail, Anthony gently floated the broken half of the wing out of the fountain and onto the courtyard’s stone flooring. Once that was removed, Aziraphale could focus on restoring the statue. Anthony had conjured him a bottle of white spirit solvent specifically to clean the poor thing.

He mixed them together along with a solution of distilled water Anthony had conjured, and also added some non-ionic surfactant. It was a chemical Aziraphale had never heard of before, until he read about marble restoration in one of his housekeeping magazines the previous day. The picture on the front of the magazine boasted a wide collection of marble statues inside a lovely Italian villa. Aziraphale read the entire thing cover to cover, eager to restore some of the marble statues, pillars, and other decorations he was sure were scattered around the manor proper. 

He started carefully cleaning the statue, rinsing a small section with a dampened rag he placed in his bucket and wrung out. He wiped the section of the statue gently, careful not to rub too hard so as not to damage the stone beneath. It wasn’t hard work, wiping the statue off carefully, but it was certainly slow. The magazine Aziraphale read was very particular about proper restoration techniques. 

It took Aziraphale the better part of two hours to clean the entirety of the statue. Some of the grime was well caked on. He had to double back on more than spot to wipe down again in order to clean it properly. There were also many ridges and small indents to clean out, like the waves in the angel’s robe, or the feather’s in their one good wing.

Still, by the time his bucket was murky with grime, the statue looked better than it had before. Most of the grime was gone, leaving the marble gleaming. Parts of it were still weathered and worn with age from the barrage of the elements, there was nothing Aziraphale could do about that, not without Anthony's magic anyway. 

Aziraphale gathered his supplies, his skin wet with sweat and exertion. It didn’t help that the weather had become a fair bit hotter over the last few days as well. The sun was high in the sky and beating down on him. Aziraphale was eager to sit down for a moment and cool off. 

Anthony met him at the back gate, and together they ventured back into the garden. Aziraphale collapsed onto the bench at the duck pond, eager to enjoy the cool breeze that blew in from over the water. 

Anthony crawled up onto the bench beside him, and together they watched the light turn golden over the water as the sun made its way across the sky. The family of ducks were back gliding over the water. The ducklings had grown larger from when Aziraphale last saw them. 

Their feathers were still fuzzy and young looking, but Aziraphale noticed many of them had feathers that had darkened in some spots. Their bodies looked elongated and almost adolescent looking as they swam behind their mother. Aziraphale watched them skirt around the pond and wished he had thought to bring some fresh greens to feed them. He would like to see the babies up close.

Anthony must have seen the longing on his face, because before he knew it, a small bag of greens appeared by his side. He looked at the bag and then back at Anthony.

“You spoil me too much dear,” he said with a smile, and eagerly opened the bag.

Inside were sheets of lettuce and bits of corn. He eagerly took a handful and threw it out onto the water. It took a little while for the family to notice the food, being all the way across the pond. One of the ducklings, who was already turned towards them, started at the sight of food and began to glide towards them. 

Seeing their sibling go off on their own, the others began to follow. The mother trailed behind, swimming after her brood as the children honked happily at the sight of food. Before Aziraphale knew it, he had a gaggle of hungry ducklings honking and dipping their heads into the water to devour their food.

He smiled while watching them eat, and threw handfuls for them to eat when they gobbled up the previous amount of food. He was careful to throw some handfuls a little while away from the center of the brood as well, for the poor dears who couldn’t gobble up as much food for their more aggressive siblings.

“Do you think I should name them?” Aziraphale asked, glancing at Anthony.

Anthony nodded his head in agreement. Aziraphale gazed at the ducks in concentration, wracking his brain for a suitable name. He started with the mother first. He paid careful attention to her general appearance, hoping that might give him some ideas.

Her feathers were mostly made of smatterings of light and dark brown. There was a large dark blue feather with a thin tip of white on her side. Aziraphale looked at her for a bit, and wracked his brain for a suitable name.

“Daphne,” he decided. 

Anthony looked up at him curiously, his head tilted in a question.

“Daphne is a nymph associated with streams and rivers,” Aziraphale explained. "She was said to be the daughter of a river god and a nymph. Seems suitable for a duck, especially one with a blue feather.” he said, pointing to her plumage.

Anthony hissed in understanding.

Aziraphale studied the other ducklings carefully. He focused his attention on the more aggressive one gobbling up food. Most of its feathers were a darker brown than its siblings, with only smaller spots of lighter colored feathers. It was the first to notice the food and venture off on its own, leading the charge when Aziraphale first threw the food into the water.

“Odysseus perhaps?” Aziraphale wondered. Odysseus was a king in legend, and the title character of the famous story of the Odyssey. He spent years charging ahead, alone on the sea after losing his crew. A fitting name for an independent duckling.

Aziraphale studied the next duckling. They had a darker coloring like their sibling Odysseus, although their long neck had a long strip of white on it. They were the second one to venture closer to Aziraphale and their brother at the sight of food, and gleefully competed with their sibling for morsels of food. 

Aziraphale thought of a book he had read in the last week or so, after a long morning of toiling cleaning the house. Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night' . Aziraphale had enjoyed it thoroughly. He decided to name the little thing Viola, since he had loved the character and thought that it was a lovely name. 

“Viola,” he decided, pointing to the duck in question for Anthony’s sake. He nodded in approval.

Aziraphale looked to the next duckling, thinking carefully of what to name them. This one was a much lighter coloring than their other two siblings, all pale yellow feathers. Aziraphale thought for a while. He struggled to think of a name from literature that would suit her, so he took a different approach. Her feathers were such a pale yellow color. He felt like he had seen them before. He stared at her some more, before a thought came to him. They were the same color as one of Anthony’s plot of lilies.

“Lily,” he decided.

The last duckling was a darker yellow with brown tips on their wings. They were always at the back of the pack when Aziraphale put the food down, always the last to get their morsel of food. So much so that Aziraphale had gotten into the habit of throwing an extra handful of food their way while the others were distracted with their share. The duckling seemed like a shy kind little thing. Despite that, she seemed to be quite curious. She was often wandering off to the side when her siblings were playing. Quietly doing her own thing and exploring a stray plant or the like all on her own. Often having to swim fast back towards the group when Daphne led the charge elsewhere.

Aziraphale couldn’t say why, but a name popped into his head.

“Eve,” he decided. 

Anthony jerked his head and looked up at him in surprise.

“Maybe for Evelyn?” Aziraphale mused looked to Anthony.

Anthony merely stared at him blankly. To Aziraphale’s eyes, he almost seemed a little bit agitated.

“Not Eve then?” he wondered, worried that Anthony didn’t like the name. “We can always call her something else.”

Anthony shook his head profusely.

“If you say so,” Aziraphale said, just a little bit doubtful. Perhaps Anthony knew someone named Evelyn who he didn’t get on with?

After all the ducks were named, Aziraphale fed them the rest of the food he brought. He was careful not to overdo it, as he didn’t want to feed them too much and discourage them from learning how to hunt for food on their own. 

He and Anthony spent a little bit more time in the garden, wandering around old favored paths and just enjoying each other's company. Afterwards, they headed back inside, and Aziraphale cooked a little lunch for the two of them. Something simple, just a regular garden salad with cold cut sandwiches. 

Aziraphale ate quickly. He was famished from all of the work he had done earlier in the day. He might not have found any hidden secrets by cleaning the foyer and main entrance, but he didn’t let that trouble him. The house was certainly coming along at any rate, and that was always a positive thing in Aziraphale’s eyes.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon puttering about the house. They spent the rest of the daylight hours in the sun room with a pack of cards. The instructions were listed on the back of the deck rather helpfully, as Aziraphale never knew if he ever played before, and Anthony was unable to explain the rules to him aloud.

The first few losses Aziraphale chalked up to his inexperience and not fully comprehending the rules, but as they continued playing, Aziraphale began to suspect something else. It was only after a round where Aziraphale spent an entire round barely paying attention to his own cards in order to study Anthony closely. It took some time to carefully scrutinize his moves before he had a breakthrough. After one round, Aziraphale saw a shimmer, not unlike the look of heat on pavement, that made the image of the cards almost flicker. 

“You’re cheating!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “You, you're using your magic to spell your cards!” he said, indignant.

Anthony looked up at him and hissed happily with an air of mirth around him. 

“You’re impossible,” Aziraphale complained, throwing his cards on the table, not seeing the point in continuing if Anthony was going to cheat so terribly.

Anthony hissed out another sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Aziraphale crossed his arms at the sound. Still, he couldn’t stay mad forever, even with Anthony looking so pleased with himself. He couldn’t help but crack a smile after a little bit of sulking.

“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough cheating for today,” he said, standing up from the table, as Anthony floated all the cards together and placed them back in the box.

They spent the rest of the day in the living room. Aziraphale read a book while Anthony and him listened to music that was thankfully, not bebop. Aziraphale started reading 'A Tale of Two Cities', a lovely read if a bit of a morbid one, as the daylight waned. He was well into the book as the sunlight faded.

Aziraphale closed his book and put it aside while there was still some light left in order to bathe and prepare for bed. It was already late as the sun took far longer to fade, although he didn’t know the exact time. He would have to ask Anthony to conjure a pocket watch or clock later.

After taking another lukewarm bath to stave off the heat, Aziraphale settled into bed. The heat made it difficult for Aziraphale to sleep, even with the lighter covers and sleepwear, and not for the first time, he wished the bedroom had a window to crack open to let in an evening breeze. After some time, he finally managed to fall into a light doze.

He awoke again when a now human Anthony settled into bed. 

“You’re terrible,” he said immediately, as Anthony got in.

“Still sore about that?” Anthony asked lightly, amusement coloring his voice.

“Well not all of us have magic to help us cheat at cards!” Aziraphale protested.

Anthony hummed at that and pulled the covers over himself. Aziraphale let him, not needing as much blanket to keep him warm. If anything, he was a little too close to being overheated.

“If you did have magic, you probably wouldn’t use it to cheat at cards anyway,” Anthony pointed out.

“Too right I wouldn’t,” Aziraphale nodded. “I’d use it for more useful things, like cleaning up the house or, um,” he fumbled, trying to think of another use for it.

“Or not cheating at games,” Anthony suggested.

“Using it to make sure you couldn’t,” Aziraphale decided. 

Anthony barked out a laugh at the thought. “You’re something else Angel,” he said.

Aziraphale felt a smile grow on his face. No matter how much he pretended to be angry, he couldn’t keep it off.

“What do you think of the names I gave the ducks?” Aziraphale asked, switching topics.

“They’re great,” Anthony said immediately. “Especially the Odysseus one,” he said.

“Have you read the Odyssey?” Aziraphale asked.

“Oh ages ago,” Anthony said. “Although I don’t remember all of it. Lots of him getting lost and sleeping with women.”

“There’s more to the story than that!” Aziraphale protested.

“And lots of anointing, so much anointing by pretty ladies,” Anthony continued. “Honestly what did they need all that oil for anyway?” he wondered.

Aziraphale spluttered at Anthony’s words. “Well there’s no accounting for taste,” he reasoned.

Anthony laughed again.

Aziraphale felt his smile grew, before it fell. “You really like the names I got them?” he asked again.

“Yes Angel, why do you ask?” Anthony asked.

“Well, even Evelyn then?” Aziraphale wondered.

“Yesss,” Anthony insisted. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I trust you.”

Anthony hummed in response and soon after they both fell asleep.

The next morning Aziraphale chewed thoughtfully on his toast as he pondered what room he should clean up next. The main floor and entrance of the manor was pretty complete. Half of the floor had already been tended to before Aziraphale came with Anthony’s, and with the main entrance, sun room, and spare bedroom complete, that thankfully left everything in the immediate area in working order.

There were still plenty of rooms on the second floor, and a few more on the first floor of the manor to clean. Nearly all of them were dilapidated by time, as far as Aziraphale could see when he had first explored the chateau. Perhaps he’d go up there after some work in the garden. 

Aziraphale nodded to himself, his mind made up as he cleaned up his plate and ventured outside. The day was unusually warm for only mid morning. Aziraphale spent a great deal of time watering and weeding the garden under the steady heat, quickly sweating through his clothes, even with his wonderful sunhat keeping him cool. 

He was sweltering by the time he was done. He wiped his brow and popped inside for a bit to get a glass of water to cool off for a few minutes, before reluctantly going back out to harvest some of the coriander that was finally fully grown. 

He cut the long stalks of plants with some gardening shears and placed the plant in his basket. He went back inside into the cooler walls, drinking more water and getting to work on de-seeding the plant.

Some of the bulbs were a light brown color, a good color for harvesting. He harvested most of the brown seeds, placing them in a glass jar labeled ‘coriander’ he had previously put together. There were still many small bulbs that were a vibrant green color. He wrapped the stalks of coriander in string at the bases, not wanting the plant to separate and fall apart. 

Soon, Aziraphale had about a half a dozen bundles of coriander plant all wrapped together. He went over to a section of the kitchen counter that was far away from the stove. There was a long thin wooden pole nailed into the wall that Anthony had conjured with his magic into the shelf a few days earlier, when he noticed the coriander was nearly fully grown. Aziraphale wrapped the loose ends of string he kept tethered to the plant around the wooden pole and hung each bundle upside down. 

It would take about two weeks for the rest of the coriander seeds to dry, but Aziraphale was eager to use the spice in some future recipes. He had already harvested a good amount of cilantro from the plant, kept fresh with Anthony’s magic in the icebox.

Aziraphale went back to where he set aside the other seeds on the counter and placed them in some small brown paper packets he found lying in the garden shed. He placed the seeds inside one larger packet and took out a pen in a nearby draw, writing ‘coriander seeds,’ in his careful cursive. 

Anthony said it was best to keep the seeds from this year’s harvest for next year’s planting season, as the plant had already acclimated to the particular soil and climate of the garden. That way, next year’s harvest would be even more plentiful.

Aziraphale blushed at the thought of another summer harvest. Another year spent in the chateau wouldn’t be so bad. If he could leave and come back whenever he wished, that is. 

Aziraphale finished putting the seedlings away and wiped off the stray dirt and leaves off of the counter. He had cooled down considerably from his jaunt in the garden, being in the cooler halls of the manor. The old walls of the manor were surprisingly good at keeping out the sun’s heat, and helping the air from outside flow in.

Once he was done cleaning up, Aziraphale went upstairs to see what the damage was for the upstairs rooms. The moment he stepped above the cast iron staircase, he could see a hallway filled with broken windows, and a carpet grey with dust and debris. The second story had many more windows that were large, and ornate, and half broken in. When he made it to the top of the steps, he was immediately hit with a wall of heat. 

Aziraphale looked at the work he had before him. He looked at the hallway of broken mirror shards and debris on the floor, and the long row of doors that led to other rooms that also needed clearing, and promptly turned around on his heel and fled back downstairs. 

He had retreated back to the kitchen to cool off when Anthony finally made his way back inside from the garden. He tilted his head quizzically at the displeased expression on Aziraphale’s face.

“Oh it’s nothing,” Aziraphale said, waving off his concern with a flick of his hand. “I just think this heat is getting to me is all,” he explained.

Anthony nodded in understanding.

“Are there other places in the manor more, um cool to clean?” Aziraphale asked. “At least until this heatwave passes,” he said.

Anthony thought for a moment before nodding. He gestured for Aziraphale to follow with a flick of his head. He led Aziraphale outside the back entrance towards the garden and set off back towards the hidden path leading to the front entrance. 

Aziraphale followed him curiously, until Anthony ventured off the path a bit and took a detour towards a thin dirt path that Aziraphale had not noticed the other day. The path led closer back towards the side of the house. 

The bushes were a bit overgrown, but they curled away from them as they approached. Suddenly, the path grew a bit wider, and they stopped at a staircase dipping low into the ground.

The staircase was made of crumbling stone, and was surrounded by a low wall of large stones cobbled together. It was overgrown with moss and ivy. The staircase cracked into the earth and went quite a while down. Anthony slithered down the broken staircase and Aziraphale was careful to follow, not wanting to trip on a crack on the broken steps. 

There lay a single cast iron door. There was a great deal of grime covering it, especially near the floor. Anthony opened it with a flick of its tail. The metal groaned as it opened inward. 

The stone steps continued beyond the door as Anthony and Aziraphale ventured down. The walls inside were also made off cobbled stone, some jutting out larger than others. When Anthony and Aziraphale made it to the bottom of the staircase, Aziraphale could finally see the full scope of the room. 

While the walls were made of cobblestone, there were arches, and a ceiling made of much sturdier brick. Alongside the walls were a few large wooden barrels with spouts. Between each large barrel were diamond shaped shelves, each filled with a handful of dark thin bottles. Each wall had a generous amount of shelves all teaming with bottles.

“It’s a wine cellar,” Aziraphale realized with a start. 

Anthony looked at him and nodded hissing pleasantly. 

Aziraphale hurried over to the nearest wall and pulled out the nearest bottle. It was covered in dust. The label was old and frayed, but it was still readable. It said,  
with a square like crest surrounded by a decorative ornate ink frame. Aziraphale had no memory of the brand, but he could guess it was a good one.

“Has this been here all along?” Aziraphale wondered aloud, turning back to Anthony.

Despite being a rhetorical question, Anthony nodded in response. 

Aziraphale grinned, and took in the various wine bottles around him. He frowned when he noticed all the dust covering the bottles and the dirt littering the ground. 

“Well, it looks like we have some work to do,” Aziraphale said, turning back towards the steps. He went back into the house and gathered his cleaning supplies, a broom, a fair bit of rags and half a bucket of water. He found a new addition in the closet when he was gathering everything together. 

There, hanging on a hook on the other side of the closet door, was a powder blue apron with a white winged motif sewn into the breast pocket. 

“Oh Anthony, I love it,” Aziraphale breathed. He quickly tied it on.

Anthony hissed in pleasure as Aziraphale put it on and tied the string together. They gathered everything they would need, Anthony floating the bucket of water behind him and Aziraphale carrying the rest as they made their way back to the cellar. 

Aziraphale got right to work cleaning. He started by taking out wine bottles from one of the racks and dusted each one. The thick layer of grey dirt smeared off the dark bottle. It took a few tries to wipe the entire bottle clean, and the rag had turned a dark grey from the cleaning. He dipped the rag into the bucket of water and moved onto the next one. He wiped down every bottle, using a few other dry rags to dry them off as he went. By the time he was done, the bucket was grey with dust. 

Anthony lazily flicked his tail towards the bucket and rags, until the rags were spotless again and the water clear. He watched as Aziraphale cleaned, seating himself on a low round table at the center of the room that he had righted with his magic.

Aziraphale didn’t mind the company. He was grateful for the extra help, and felt pleased Anthony wasn’t overdoing himself again. He spent the next hour dusting the wine bottles and wooden racks, while enjoying the cool damp temperature of the cellar. 

He had dusted a little under half of the room’s bottles by the time he decided to take a break. He took a glass of water Anthony conjured for him and sat on top of the table with Anthony. His knees ached a bit from kneeling a lot placing bottles on the floor and dusting hard to reach places.

“It’s rather nice here,” Aziraphale said. “Very cool, the heat was getting a bit tiring.”

Anthony hissed lowly in disagreement.

“Well, I know how much you enjoy the warm weather.” Aziraphale said. “It’s just not always agreeable with me.” 

Anthony nodded in understanding. Aziraphale finished his water, and soon after he was back to work. Another two hours in and all of the wine bottles and wooden racks had been dusted. He left the larger barrels of alcohol for another day 

He and Anthony went upstairs and enjoyed a nice relaxing lunch together. The door to the backyard was left open to let the breeze in. Afterwards, they retired to the living room. Anthony had brought up one of the bottles of wine from the cellar Aziraphale had cleaned, a nice smooth red. They got thoroughly drunk as they made their way through the bottle, and then another one, another red, as they listened to music together. 

Aziraphale was beginning to form a headache by the time dinner time rolled around from all of the drinking. He skipped the food for a while, choosing to nurse a glass of water instead. After a bit of sobering up, he took another lukewarm bath to cool off. He forced himself to eat a light dinner, and found that the food had not agreed with him after all of the drinking, and he went to sleep early soon after. 

Aziraphale woke up late the next morning, when the sun was already high in the sky. He felt much more rested than the day before. 

“I won't drink that much again I think,” he said to Anthony beside him at the breakfast table.

Anthony gave him a careful look over the table, and went back to eating his sausage.

“It’s true,” Aziraphale protested. 

Anthony gave him another look and ate the rest of his breakfast. 

Aziraphale huffed to himself, scraping the rest of his scrambled eggs into his mouth. He was still a bit huffy after watering his garden, irritated further by the heat as the morning grew later, and retreated back to the cellar. He dusted the rest of the wine bottles and the wooden casks of alcohol for the rest of the morning and early afternoon. He still didn’t know what type of alcohol was stored inside. When he finished, he decided to call it quits for the day.

Walking up from the cellar back outside made him grimace. He was hit with a wave of heat that felt stifling. It was even hotter today than it was the day before. Aziraphale quickly went back inside to escape the heat. Anthony whipped up some lunch for them, cold cut sandwiches with refreshing lemonade. Aziraphale thanked him and dug in happily. 

Despite Aziraphale’s earlier protests, he and Anthony enjoyed a chilled bottle of white wine later that evening after dinner in the sun room. They played a few rounds of rummy, and then backgammon after Aziraphale grew tired of Anthony’s rampant cheating. 

Aziraphale drank far more than he had planned to, enough that it made planning his next move on the board became more and more challenging. Anthony seemed to be the same way, lazily moving the pieces around, so he felt a bit better not playing at his best.

Aziraphale was careful to drink more water while drinking, and again before he retired to bed. He woke up the next morning feeling distinctly better than the one before. He watered the garden and spent the rest of the day dusting the rest of the basement, and sweeping and mopping the wooden flooring until it shone. Sadly, Aziraphale didn’t find any hidden secrets or interesting enchanted artifacts the last few days, but he didn’t consider it a total waste of time. He had discovered a new part of the house, and more importantly, a nice place to escape the heat.

Anthony had added a few plush chairs to go with the large wooden table in the center of the room, making a good place for Anthony and him to sit and chat and drink with one another outside of the heat of the sun.

Even in the cooler walls of the manor upstairs, the heat was still very much pervasive. Anthony had mentioned it might just be a heatwave that would last the rest of the week or so, but assured Aziraphale that it would break eventually. 

Aziraphale spent the next few days tending to the garden, giving himself some time off from all of the cleaning. He rose early to water the garden, and even found himself needing to water some plants again in the early evening, to save his plants from being damaged by the heat.

Anthony helped as well, hissing at his plants around the rest of the garden. He left Aziraphale’s own collection free from the abuse, but snuck in a few choice looks on his end. Aziraphale might not have appreciated Anthony’s methods, but he did admire the results. He didn’t know how Anthony did it, but all of his plants looked as vibrant as ever, despite the weather. He really had such a wonderful talent.

The next few days, however, did bring about a curious change in routine. While Aziraphale tended to his garden, Anthony would disappear for great lengths of time. While it was not unusual for them to part in the morning to work on their respective gardens, Anthony was gone far longer than he usually was. 

Aziraphale began to start on lunch later than he would have liked to wait for Anthony, but more than once Anthony had slithered in through the back door when Aziraphale gave up waiting and had already dug into his meal. He still appeared winded after the meal, and dozed long after it was done, when they retired to the sun room or the sitting room. It was only after a few more days of this new routine that Aziraphale finally broke down.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked Anthony tentatively one evening in the dark, as they lay in bed together.

Anthony had seemed a bit lethargic as the night drew on, falling asleep earlier on the lounge in the sitting room until Aziraphale shook him awake for bed.

“Just fine angel,” Anthony said, yawning a bit at the end. 

“It’s just that you’ve been more tired than usual lately,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony was quiet for a moment before answering. “I’ve been working on something,” he admitted.

“Oh, more magic?” Aziraphale said.

“Yes,” Anthony said.

“You know how I feel about you overdoing yourself,” Aziraphale said.

“I know, I’ve been pacing myself, promise,” Anthony said.

“What have you been working on anyway?” Aziraphale asked.

“I’m almost done with it,” Anthony said, dodging the question. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, slowly.

“It’s a surprise angel,” Anthony said. “For you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Well, just don’t overdo yourself then.”

“I won’t.” Anthony promised. “I learned my lesson.”

Aziraphale smiled, and felt pleased that Anthony had taken his words to heart. The next two days passed slowly, the heat making the days seem to crawl by. Aziraphale tended to the garden early in the day and strolled the garden before the sun hit noon, wanting to enjoy the cooler weather while he could. He fed Daphne and her little family, and spent a great deal of time in the wine cellar, reading a book or playing cards with Anthony after he came back from working on his ‘surprise’ when the day was at its hottest.

When the heat began to wind down, but the daylight was still bright, they retired to the sun room. Anthony enjoyed the rest of the day’s sunlight on the sofa, while Aziraphale reclined in his wicker chair, enjoying books like 'Pride and Prejudice', glad for some spare time to read.

It was on the third day that Anthony broke the routine. He approached Aziraphale as he sat on the bench at the pond, feeding the family of ducks and enjoying the breeze that blew over the water. The sun was drawing higher in the sky, and he had just about decided to head back inside when Anthony slithered up to him. 

His golden eyes gleamed in the midday sun as he looked at Aziraphale expectantly. 

“Is it done?” Aziraphale guessed, taking in the excited air about him.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically, and motioned for Aziraphale to follow him. He led him deep into the garden, past the now familiar plots of flowers. After a time, Aziraphale saw a new path he hadn’t seen before. It was a smooth path made out of a grey-blue stone. It led away from the plots of flowers and into an area made of smooth grass. 

There were shrubs and trees lining the path. Eventually, it widened, and Aziraphale could see a large structure in the distance. Aziraphale could see bright white stone columns and a gleaming bright blue shining in the sun. As they approached, he realized what he was seeing. It was a large ornate swimming pool with a lounge area.

The pool was incredibly large, and it was surrounded by stone columns and statues. There were two layers the top part spilling down to the bottom half creating a small waterfall. Between the stone columns were stone statues of cherubs made from a brilliant white marble.

The cherubs held pitchers of stone pitchers, a fountain of water flowed from the pitchers into the pool. Aziraphale drew closer in wonder and inspected their wings, admiring how each feather was lovingly crafted. 

There were a few lounge chairs with white cushions around the pool, a small wooden half open pool house with a rack of towels inside, and a long cream colored curtain.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale breathed. “This is what you’ve been working on?”

Anthony nodded in response.

“How did you, why did you?” Aziraphale started, the words getting caught in his throat. “This is too much, it’s so lovely but why did you make this?” he asked.

Anthony looked at him pointedly.

“Right, you can’t talk like that.” Aziraphale said. “Is it because of the heat?” he guessed.

Anthony nodded, hissing in response. 

“Oh Anthony you shouldn’t have-” Aziraphale started. He was cut off by a pointed hiss by Anthony and a vigorous shake of his head. 

Aziraphale laughed at the interruption. “Alright, fine. Thank you anyway, it’s beautiful.”

Anthony gestured to the water with his head and then back to Aziraphale.

“Yes, a swim would be lovely, oh but I don’t have a swim suit.” Aziraphale realized.

Anthony gestured to the wooden pool house. 

“You really do think of everything,” Aziraphale smiled, and headed to the pool house. Inside, he grabbed a towel off the towel rack. On another hook, he saw a swimsuit hung up waiting for him. It was a men’s one piece tank bathing suit, with short sleeves and shorts that went up to his mid thigh.

He pulled aside the cream colored curtain and closed it again to change into his swimsuit. He left his clothes folded on a table nearby to collect later. He grabbed a large white fluffy towel and re-joined Anthony when he was done. Anthony was curled up on a section of stone tiling near the entrance to the lower section of the pool.

It was around noon, and the heat had almost begun to get unbearable. Aziraphale joined him. 

“Not going into the water?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony shook his head. 

“I forgot, snakes are cold blooded creatures, aren’t they?” Aziraphale wondered. “Well, enjoy the heat. I for one am glad to get away from it.”

The lower half of the pool had a wide staircase that led into the water. Aziraphale stepped into it, and felt pleased at the cool sensation of the water. It was refreshing, but not too cold. He let his body adjust a bit before walking down the staircase deeper into the water until more than half of his body was submerged. 

Aziraphale had no memory of ever having swum in water before, but his body seemed to know what it was doing, so he reckoned he must have learned at some point or another. 

Aziraphale began doing slow breast strokes around the pool, his body adjusting to the cool temperature of the water quickly. Anthony watched him lazily as he swam around, occasionally flicking his tail in greeting from across the pool. Aziraphale swam around the pool, and explored how deep it could go. 

He swam up to one cherub leaning over the edge of the water, and held out his hand to collect the water falling out of the pitcher. He let it splash in his hand before continuing on. He swam to the waterfall dripping down from the upper level of the pool and ducked his head underneath the stream. A pleasant thrill rang down his spine as the cold water hit his head.

He spent a great deal of time swimming around in the water, enjoying the contrast between the coolness of the water and the heat of the sun. He dove down a few times to test the depth of the water. He found that the closer he got to the waterfall on the other end of the pool, the deeper it became. 

After diving down a few times and touching the bottom of the pool, Aziraphale surmised that the pool was at least ten feet deep at its greatest depth. He swam around for a good long while, at one point getting out of the pool and testing the other half as well. The top part was more shallow, allowing Aziraphale to walk around comfortably at most parts, but was perhaps six feet deep at its lowest point. 

Around the top half were more lounge chairs and stone statues, some cherubs, and others of tall women in long robes holding pitchers of water as well. They looked like they came straight out of one of Aziraphale historical books on Greek and Roman architecture. Anthony might have strange tastes at times, but for the most part, he had quite the eye for design.

After swimming in the pool for an hour or two, Aziraphale finally toweled off and sat in the lounge chair closest to Anthony. Anthony had moved a bit to stay close to the sun and keep away from any cooler shadows. 

They spent the rest of the day relaxing at the pool. Aziraphale read a few magazines Anthony had stocked back in the pool house and even dozed off at one point, enjoying the heat of the sun on his skin. They turned back in when the air began to cool and chilled his skin.

Aziraphale dressed back into his regular clothes, and together they went back inside. They ate dinner and spent the rest of the evening quietly together, Aziraphale decidedly more relaxed than he was before. He looked forward to going back to the pool tomorrow and the day following that. 

It had been the perfect summer day. A part of Aziraphale wished that it would never end. The light feeling he got in his chest when he was by Anthony’s side was intoxicating and freeing all at once. He wished every day with Anthony would always feel just like this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! This one was quite a bit longer than the last. I hope you all are enjoying the story as always. Sorry for the slightly late posting, I have family visiting me this month. Next chapter will be up two weeks or so from now, same as always. 
> 
> Big shout out to my friend Meduso for helping me name the family of ducks! To be honest it totally slipped my mind before this chapter lol.


	12. Chapter 12

Summer days passed lazily by as Aziraphale tended to his garden, cleaned up the house, and most importantly, spent a great deal of time with Anthony by the pool. The heat wave had broken, the temperatures not nearly as stifling as they had been the week prior, but it was still very hot out.

Anthony often soaked up heat on the warm tile by the pool while Aziraphale swam around in the water to cool off. His summer plants were sprouting nicely. He was careful to water them often enough to keep the soil nice and moist so they could grow strong and healthy. 

Within a week and a half the Coriander seeds were perfectly dry. Aziraphale placed some of them in a grinder Anthony had conjured for him and used the spice to make seasoned chicken, rice, and other meals. 

Aziraphale took his time cleaning up around the manor, methodically cleaning and inspecting each room to find any hidden clues. After cleaning up the cellar, he moved on to other smaller rooms on the first floor. He spent his time scrubbing at the tiles in bathrooms and dusting out long forgotten coat rooms, closets, and other storage rooms littered around the first floor.

Only after finishing those smaller projects did he turn his attention to the upstairs rooms, especially after the heat had died down and he now had a couple of places to cool off afterwards. The few remaining rooms on the first floor were larger projects that Aziraphale, frankly, didn’t feel up to working on for the time being.

There was still the matter of the ballroom and the dining room to work on, both being excessively large, and quite the daunting task. With all of the work he had been putting into cleaning and tending his garden lately, he decided to leave those projects for later. That being said, he did spend one morning searching around both rooms for clues or anything of import. 

He moved furniture and looked behind every corner, but didn’t find anything particularly interesting. If anything magical or suspicious was about, he’d find it when he deigned to clean up, although he doubted he’d find much.

Aziraphale was far more eager to explore upstairs now that the heat wave had died down, although the upstairs was still a bit more stifling than the bottom floor. Still, Aziraphale hadn’t forgotten his goal in all of this. To find the tether that controlled the magic of the manor. The work might be slow and methodical, but it was good work, noble work. The more he combed through the manor, the more likely he was to find whatever it was trapping them in the building. 

Aziraphale woke up early one morning to water his plants and get to work cleaning the upstairs rooms. He carefully walked down the hallway, remaining mindful of any stray broken glass or breaks in the rug, and steered clear of the shattered windows. He opened the door to one of the rooms closest to the staircase and peered inside.

Inside was a large airy room with peeling wallpaper, old faded pink curtains, and a grey carpet, that on closer inspection might have been cream colored once upon a time. The thing that immediately caught Aziraphale’s attention, however, was what was at the very center of the room. 

There, covered in an old white tarp, was a dusty black piano. Aziraphale approached the piano, taking the tarp off in one swift moment. He wrinkled his nose at the dust it kicked up. Aziraphale's eyes squinted. He tried to hold it in, but the dust was too great. He sneezed profusely, waving his hand in front of the face to get rid of the dust motes floating near it.

The piano, while mostly protected from grime, was still covered in dust. The black polish was faded to a lighter color of black, and some places that remained uncovered by the tarp were damaged by the light filtering into the room. 

The white of the keys had yellowed with age. Aziraphale approached the piano slowly. He pressed down on one white key and winced at the sour note that echoed throughout the room. He didn’t think he knew much about music but even to his untrained ear, he knew that the piano sounded wildly out of tune.

He heard a low hissing noise came from behind him and turned around to see Anthony lingering in the open doorway. He looked inside curiously.

“Oh hello,” Aziraphale said waving him over.

Anthony slithered into the room, taking care to avoid any debris strewn across the carpet. 

“Do you think you can fix it?” Aziraphale asked, and looked to the broken piano. “I don’t know how to fix it without making it worse,” he admitted.

Anthony studied the piano for a long moment in contemplation before nodding. Right before Aziraphale’s eyes, it was as if time had rewound. 

He could see the dust fade from the piano, leaving sleek wood in its wake. He could see the dull color of the wood shine and slowly darken to its original polished black. The yellow of the keys lightened into a crisp white, and the dark keys shone like a clear polish had righted them again.

The light shone in through the window, and a warm breeze blew in. The tattered curtain brushed the seat of the piano, which had also transformed. The process took mere moments, but the beauty of it took Aziraphale’s breath away.

“Oh Anthony, you are a miracle,” he breathed. 

Anthony hissed in response, his tail moving side to side in pleasure. Aziraphale approached the piano once more and pressed down on one of the keys. A much sweeter note filled the air than the one before, and he could feel a large smile form on his face.

“Oh this is so much better, thank you.” he said, looking back to Anthony. 

Anthony ducked down bashfully and hissed again.

With the piano good as new, Aziraphale spent the rest of the morning cleaning the room. He began his work by first picking up any stray debris on the floor and piling it into the hallway. Once the faded carpet was more or less clear, he took the hoover Anthony had conjured for him. It was a clever little thing, all polished wood and thick metal. 

It was a bit heavy, and took quite a bit of strength to operate. Aziraphale methodically ran the machine over the carpet, and the machine sucked up more debris the more Aziraphale pushed it. 

It was hard work, but well worth the effort. Aziraphale ran the machine over and over again on many parts of the carpet. He even shifted the piano with Anthony’s magic to get the hard to reach spots. After more than an hour's worth of work, the carpet looked much better than before, and the bag attached to the vacuum was thick with dust. 

Aziraphale was sweating by the time he was done. He put the hoover aside and sat on the piano stool to catch his breath. He felt the weight of Anthony’s gaze on him, and turned towards him. Already, a glass of water was hovering in the air, waiting for him. He took it and drank quickly. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief he kept in his pocket. 

“I think that’s enough work for today,” he decided. “How about a dip in the pool?” he asked.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically. They spent the next few hours by the pool. Aziraphale was grateful to be out of the heat, only stepping out of the water to eat the sandwiches Anthony conjured for them, and to take a moments rest on a lawn chair to digest his food, before getting back in the water.

The sun was still high in the sky by the time he finally climbed out, although the heat was a bit more manageable. He toweled off and settled himself back into the lounge chair. Only after he had properly dried off, did he pick up his book. He had finished ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ which he had enjoyed thoroughly, and worked his way to another one of Austen’s works ‘Sense and Sensibility’.

He was just getting to the part where Marianne falls and twists her ankle in the rain and meets the dashing John Willoughby, when Anthony's shifting by his lounge chair caught his attention. He looked up from his book to see Anthony rousing himself and slithering towards the edge of the pool. He watched curiously as he neared the edge of the water and put his face close to the edge in concentration.

Aziraphale nearly jumped in his seat when he saw Anthony lower himself into the water. He watched in amazement as Anthony glided over the water keeping himself perfectly buoyant atop the water. He put his book aside to watch him swim.

Anthony kept his head tilted upward to avoid dipping it into the water and see where he was going. He used the bottom half of his body to propel himself forward, curling it rapidly side to side to move. Aziraphale honestly couldn’t say if Anthony was using magic to keep himself afloat, or if he was naturally so buoyant. Regardless, it was a sight to behold.

Aziraphale watched in fascination as Anthony smoothly moved across the water to the other side of the lower pool and then back again. As soon as it started, it ended. Anthony quickly swam back towards Aziraphale and climbed out of the pool. 

“I didn’t know you liked to swim,” he couldn’t help but comment, after Anthony had settled into a warm patch of sunlight close to his chair.

Anthony turned towards Azirapahle and cocked his head in what Aziraphale assumed to be his version of a shrug, although sometimes it was hard to tell, and settled back into the warmth of the sunlight.

Aziraphale admired how the sunlight brought out the hidden colors of red in his dark scales before turning back to his book. It took a few tries to get back into the story. Even as he read Marianne slowly begin to fall in love with John, he couldn’t get the sight of Anthony gliding across the water out of his mind. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if Anthony was such a wonderful swimmer in his human form as well. He felt his face heat in embarrassment, and shook his head a bit trying to get the thought out of his mind.  
He took a cool drink of water from the glass at the table by his side and closed his book again. He felt a bit flushed and overheated. He dipped back into the pool for a short time to cool off and dried off once more, his towel now thoroughly damp having been used twice in a row. He left the book on the table and closed his eyes instead. 

The brightness of the sun could not be dampened by the shadow of his hat, even with his eyes closed. Bright red light danced beneath his eyelids, making it hard to doze off into a light sleep. Aziraphale adjusted his hat to fall more closely over his eyes, turned his head to the side and tried to sleep. The heat on his skin became a little too close to too warm. His mind wandered away from him. He wondered if Anthony would move so gracefully in his human form?

Aziraphale grumbled to himself and shifted in place a bit, trying to get more comfortable. He didn’t know how Anthony could do it, falling asleep so quickly and deeply in such stifling heat. It took him awhile, but eventually he managed a light doze, never truly falling into a deep sleep, but enough so that his mind conjured its own magic. Images of a faceless man, tall, moving quickly like wind and gracefully like water.

A low hissing noise roused him from sleep. His skin felt sweaty and warm from baking in the sun. He took off his hat from his face and rubbed at his eyes. He looked down towards Anthony, who looked at him expectantly.  
“Time to head in?” he asked after yawning deeply.

Anthony nodded and then shifted his head to the end table at Aziraphale’s side. Aziraphale looked at the table curiously. It only held his book and a glass of water. He took the book with him and set it in his lap.

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget it,” he promised.

Anthony shook his head and pointed to the table again. Aziraphale turned back towards it.

“Oh I see,” he realized, and grasped the water as well. He took it in hand and polished the water off, the liquid still inexplicably cool.

“Thank you, I feel fine, promise,” he said to Anthony.

Anthony gave him a nod in satisfaction. Aziraphale was sure to bring his towel to the hamper inside the open pool house and placed it inside to be cleaned later. Anthony trailed behind him, and looked towards the hamper with a glint in his eye.

“Don’t even think about it,” Aziraphale chastised him. “You’ve done quite enough magic for today,” he said, thinking of the piano back in the music room.

Anthony lowered his head to Aziraphale meekly and hissed quickly in apology. They went back into the house. Aziraphale cooked an early dinner, roast chicken, with a side of salad, Anthony chose to forsake the salad, and instead swallowed large cuts of chicken whole. He and Anthony drank a bottle of chilled rose` for the night, and together they enjoyed the remainder of the days light in the living room. 

Anthony put on some classical music, most of which heavily favoring the piano. Aziraphale enjoyed listening to it as he was swept away with his book for the next several hours, only stopping every now and again to make a passing comment to Anthony about an interesting passage in his book.

Aziraphale retired from the living room early, wanting to take a cool bath to wipe the sweat from his body and go to bed. Even after relaxing for so long at the pool, for some reason he was still thoroughly exhausted. 

He ran the bath cool, like he had been doing ever since the weather turned, and settled in. But when the water hit his skin, it gave him pause. He hissed lowly, feeling a stinging sensation on his arms and shoulders. 

“Drat,” he hissed, pressing a finger into his upper arm experimentally and gritting his teeth at the painful sensation that followed. 

The skin on his arms was a dark pink. There was a brief return of light skin from where his finger pressed into it, but the pink irritation rushed back the second he lifted the pressure off of it.

“Oh dear,” he mumbled to himself.

He bathed quickly, wincing to himself as he ran a soapy washcloth over his skin. He washed his hair quickly and got out of the tub. He patted his skin dry gently to avoid irritating his skin further. 

He ran another clean towel through his hair, wincing when it touched his ears as well. He looked at himself in the mirror to assess the damage and gasped at what he saw. His face and ears were bright red, as were his upper shoulders. The pinkness spread down to his lower arms and upper thighs, save for where his bathing suit covered skin.

Aziraphale thanked his lucky stars that the bathing suit had covered most of his upper body and shoulders, although most of his arms weren’t spared. 

“Should have used some sun lotion,” Aziraphale muttered to himself darkly.

He dressed in his sleeping clothes carefully, not wanting to jostle the burn. Instead of collapsing into bed as he originally planned, he ventured back into the living room. By now the sun had very nearly set and the light provided in the house was very weak. 

Aziraphale moved through the halls carefully, not wanting to bump into any stray furniture. Anthony was right where he left him, curled up on the lounge, the record playing the same songs they had listened to earlier. He looked up curiously as Aziraphale approached. Aziraphale could see the deep yellow of his eyes jump out in the fading light. 

“I think I might need your help,” he admitted.

Anthony hissed lowly and practically leapt from the sofa. He slithered over to Azirapahle.

“It’s not too bad,” he said surprised by Anthony’s alarm. “I just got a bit of sunburn is all, do you have any ointment I can use to heal it?” 

Anthony hissed in response. Suddenly Aziraphale could feel the uncomfortable feeling of his sunburn fade. He blinked a few times in bewilderment. Hurriedly, he pressed a finger on his forearm. Instead of the stinging sensation and heat of the burn, he felt nothing but cool skin.

“Anthony,” he sighed tiredly. “I don’t want you overdoing it with the magic.”

Even in the fading light, Anthony seemed unapologetic. 

“Fine,” Azirapahle said admitting defeat. “No more magic for the time being now, I mean it,” he said, wagging his finger Anthony’s way.

Anthony hissed in agreement.

Together, they retired to the bedroom. Aziraphale settled beneath the covers easily, a little bit glad his sun burn had been healed. The room darkened with a thick shadow as soon as Anthony shut the door closed, Aziraphale quickly fell into a deep sleep.

***

He woke again in the middle of the night. He sat up looking to his side instinctively, even though he couldn’t see anything, same as ever. The weight beside him was different again, indicating that Anthony had changed back to his human form. 

“How are you feeling?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask.

“Fine angel,” Anthony assured him. 

Listening to his voice and hearing no tiredness nor strain eased Aziraphale’s anxiety greatly.

“Well good, I’m glad you’ve learned your lesson then,” Aziraphale said.

“Yes well, someone hasn’t learned theirs,” Anthony pointed out.

Aziraphale pouted at his words. “I fell asleep,” he protested. 

“And got scorched,” Anthony said. “Really angel, maybe you should be more careful.”

Aziraphale couldn’t see Anthony’s face, but he could definitely hear the amusement in his voice. 

“Very well,” he sighed. 

“No thank you?” Anthony said with a teasing lilt.

Even though Aziraphale could tell Anthony only meant it in jest, he couldn’t help the swoop of guilt in his stomach.

“Thank you Anthony, truly.” he apologized. “Your magic really is something.”

“No need to thank me angel,” Anthony said seriously, the jest in his voice now gone. “No need to suffer needlessly when I can miracle it away.”

“Miracle?” Aziraphale said with a laugh. “Yes, your magic is a bit miraculous, I think.” he said. “I didn’t know you were so gifted with healing, my burn just went away like that.” he said snapping his fingers with emphasis.

“I’ve had a little bit of practice,” Anthony admitted, bashfully.

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, curiously. “I’m sure many people are thankful for your help then.”

“I hope so,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale frowned, sensing a bit of melancholy in his voice.

“I think I’ll wear a cover up or something tomorrow,” he said quickly, changing the subject. “I wouldn’t want to fall asleep in the sun again and undo all your hard work.” 

“I’ll just heal you again,” Anthony said easily.

“No, no more magic,” Aziraphale said. “Only a little at a time. That’s the rule.”

“Yes Angel,” Anthony said with a smile. 

They chatted a bit more, catching up on conversation they couldn’t do while Anthony was a snake. Aziraphale mentioned some interesting points in his latest book, while Anthony reported on the state of the garden. Apparently there were many more pests now that the weather had warmed. He laughed when Anthony had hissed at him, and grimaced when he told Aziraphale he had ate some more field mice to keep them at bay. Aziraphale also marveled at Anthony’s grace when swimming. 

“You’re such a talented swimmer, I never knew,” he said. 

“It helps when I’m a snake,” Anthony admitted. “I’m a bit more buoyant in that form.” 

“But you don’t seem to swim very often.” Aziraphale said curiously.

“Cold blooded,” Anthony explained. “I like to keep warm, especially in that form. Much better to nap in the sun than dip in cold water.” 

“I see,” Aziraphale said. He had pretty much thought the same himself.

They talked more well into the night. Soon enough, Aziraphale could feel his eyes begin to droop with exhaustion.

“Time for bed Angel,” Anthony said, sensing his fatigue.

Aziraphale merely yawned in response and laid down. With his eyes closed, his skin healed, and Anthony’s comforting presence by his side, he quickly fell asleep.

***  
Aziraphale spent the next day following his usual routine, although he woke a bit later than he usually did. He watered his plants and ate breakfast with Anthony. After washing up after breakfast, he headed back upstairs. 

Aziraphale went straight to the music room. The room was still in disarray and needed more cleaning. Azirapahle had never been so happy to see such a dilapidated room before. Anthony must have really taken his words to heart.

Although now that the carpet was relatively clean of debris and dust, it was still grey with age and various stains. Aziraphale took some baking soda and vinegar, and looked around the carpet for any deep stains. He poured a small amount of vinegar over the stains and sprinkled baking soda over it afterwards. 

He went around the room twice, finding some dark hidden stains he previously missed on the first go round. He let the mixture sit for a while and took out a dusting cloth to wipe down the window sill, which had been caked in dust. Once he could see the sparkling white wood beneath the frame again, he turned his attention back towards the carpet. 

The places where he put the vinegar and baking soda had begun to bubble considerably. He patted a damp rag over each spot until the mixture was gone and all of the deep grime had been removed. He grabbed the hoover and ran it over each spot after that again and again until the mixture was completely gone. The natural light cream of the carpet shone through afterwards, making the difference between the dirtier part of the carpet all the more obvious.

Aziraphale hummed to himself, pleased with his work. Next, he took a large broom with a soft brush and a clean bucket of warm water. He took some soap lather and threw a generous amount into the bucket. He mixed it around with a large egg beater until the mixture was thick and creamy. He dipped the broom into the mixture and got to work.

Aziraphale worked slowly and carefully. He scrubbed the brush in large circles around the carpet, removing the excess dirt and debris that had seeped into the carpet. He had to run the brush over many spots more than once. It was slow and tedious work, but very satisfying. He could see large amounts of grey muck come up from the carpet and leave behind the natural vibrant cream color of the original carpet. 

It took him well over two hours and a few spells from Anthony to provide fresh water for his bucket and brush, and maneuvering around the piano and other corners, but finally it was done. Aziraphale put his supplies to the side, Anthony vanishing the soapy water mixture from the bucket and leaving it clean. The carpet looked lovely. It wasn’t completely good as new, some stains running a bit too deep for Aziraphale’s skill, but it was nothing a little bit of Anthony’s magic wouldn’t cure.

The carpet was finally back to it’s natural cream color overall. Aziraphale sighed in relief when he saw it, pleased with his hard work. 

“I think that’s enough for this room,” Aziraphale said. 

The carpet was now clean as it could be, the dusting was finished, and the piano sparkled in the sunlight. There wasn’t much else he could do without the help of Anthony’s magic. The wallpaper needed replacing, but Aziraphale wasn’t confident he could do it on his own, as his magazines warned it would be difficult for beginners. Not to mention the state of the wall beneath it. 

“Lunch now?” he asked Anthony.

Anthony hissed in agreement.

They enjoyed a cold pasta together set off for the pool. Aziraphale was careful this time to use the sun lotion Anthony provided for him, and rubbed a generous amount into his skin.

Aziraphale went to lie down in his lawn chair and enjoy the rest of his book. He noticed a new addition soon after opening his book, now half covered in shade. Settled right next to his chair was a large umbrella with large white and yellow stripes. Aziraphale turned to Anthony and smiled.

“Thank you dear,” he said.

Anthony hissed in response, and went to lie down on the pavement near Aziraphale’s chair in the largest patch of sunlight. Aziraphale settled into his chair and flipped open his book. The arrangement was very pleasant. The umbrella partially shaded the chair while still allowing for some sun. The majority of the shade covered Aziraphale’s upper body and face, while allowing for some sun on his legs.

The temperature created was the perfect balance of warm sunlight and cool shade, and Aziraphale felt a swell of affection for Anthony rise up in him. He really did think of everything. 

Aziraphale settled into his book for the next hour or so, before dipping into the pool for a while. He reapplied some more sunscreen after toweling off, and spent the remainder of the afternoon finishing up his book. It was a whirlwind of emotion, and Aziraphale was very satisfied when he finished it. 

He and Anthony turned in later for some more card games in the sun room, and ate a late dinner before turning in for bed.

Days blended together like this as the sun shone on. Aziraphale wandered his garden sometimes twice a day, the heat of the sun permitting, and watched his garden grow as he spent time growing closer to Anthony. 

Over the next few days Aziraphale cleaned the long hallway on the second floor, growing tired of seeing broken windows and peeling wallpaper. He cleaned the carpet the same way as he did in the music room, the long stretch of fabric taking two long days alone. He dusted and swept up broken glass as Anthony slowly restored sections of the hallway, a little bit more regaining its former glory as the days went on.

He cleaned out other smaller rooms on the second floor afterwards, linen closets and coat closets, all caked with dust. Aziraphale wiped down one particular closet absolutely caked with dust and found himself wheezing for breath after accidentally inhaling a cloud of dust he had inadvertently kicked up. 

Anthony quickly vanished the cloud away seeing Aziraphale struggle for breath and he decided to turn in from cleaning earlier than usual that day. Who knew such a small room could kick up such a fantastic mess?

Still, it was nice to see the manor transform slowly before his very eyes. Anthony and him made a fantastic team. Aziraphale also greatly enjoyed exploring the manor, finding new rooms and looking for hidden secrets. He might not have found anything yet to break the spell, but Aziraphale didn’t let that frustrate him. Unlike his work in spring, reading through old fairy tales and books, here he could actually see the actual fruits of his labor unfold. That, and it was nice to live in a nice tidy house.

He and Anthony spent long afternoons lounging by the pool, occasionally broken up by walks in the garden, and some time spent watching Daphne and her family of ducklings swimming across the pond. Anthony warned him not to feed them every day, as Aziraphale was more keen too, as it would cause them to become overly dependent on them.

Aziraphale understood the logic, wanting the ducklings to be able to forage for their own food, but he couldn’t deny the joy he felt in his chest seeing them approach their little bench by the water when they saw them approach. 

The very next day, Anthony led Aziraphale back to the music room. Aziraphale walked in and gasped at what he saw, although he needn’t have been so surprised. Anthony worked his usual magic, and the room was now completely restored. The thin white curtains were open to let the sunshine in, were now thick and full and a brilliant white. The window was no longer broken, instead, it gleamed as if freshly cleaned.

The piano was as beautiful as ever, glittering in the sunlight, and the cream colored carpet shone brighter than ever. But what really captured Aziraphale’s attention was the wallpaper Anthony had restored. 

The wallpaper was a light cream, a few shades lighter than the carpet, but was filled with color. There were deep green vines and branches, with flowering pink roses and deep red lilies. The artist had also added light colored singing birds and a few dark brown squirrels to the pattern. It made the room feel natural and open. 

“Oh Anthony it’s wonderful, lovely work as always,” Aziraphale said, looking back to Anthony with a smile.

Anthony hissed in pleasure. To Aziraphale’s surprise, he slithered over to the piano. Aziraphale watched as he raised his body up onto the chair and curled himself on it, half of his body draping over the chair. Aziraphale walked over to him standing by his side.

“What’s this then?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale a particular sort of look twinkling in his eye. The cover of the keyboard opened on its own. Anthony looked at the keys in concentration and suddenly they began pressing down all their own.

A gentle melody began to play. It was a peaceful sort of sound. Aziraphale watched Anthony magic the keys, his concentration never wavering, his eyes narrowed into slits as the light sound of music reverberated around the room. The tune sped up, the key strokes becoming more complicated. The music swelled, working its way up to a wonderful crescendo, before tapering off into a lighter tune again. Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off of Anthony as he used his magic to play. His body swayed slightly to the beat of the music. The song ended with an almost contemplative sound of a few more keystrokes. As the last few notes echoed throughout the room, Aziraphale found himself speechless.

“Anthony, that was incredible,” he managed to say, after a few long moments of struggling to find words.

Anthony ducked his head down bashfully.

“No truly, I mean it. I never knew you could play,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony hissed again, although this time Aziraphale couldn’t quite parse out its meaning.

“You’ll have to tell me the full story later tonight, if you wish.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony nodded in agreement.

They spent the rest of the day following their usual routine, spending time by the pool, listening to music together in the living room later in the evening after dinner, but Aziraphale couldn’t get the thought of Anthony playing the piano out of his head.

Aziraphale smiled in the darkness later that evening, after Anthony had transformed back into a man and climbed into bed. He had just finished explaining how he had learned to play piano. A young man had taught him, a prolific pianist from Austria with an impressive work ethic. Aziraphale loved listening to Anthony talk, happy to get a glimpse into his earlier life before the manor, what little of it he could tell, magic allowing. 

There was so much about Anthony he didn’t know. Even after all of the time they had spent together so far. Aziraphale was delighted to discover so many new things about him. He wanted to learn even more about Anthony. He wanted to discover every hidden little thing about him. He wanted to spend more time together, and show Anthony parts of himself that even he might not know. Most importantly, he never wanted to leave his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's to another chapter done! Thank you all for reading as always. I just love the warm long summer days Aziraphale and Anthony spent together. It was fun writing on some of the cooler winter nights, as cold as it gets in California anyway. The song Anthony plays on the piano is Clair de Lune. I loved listening to it while writing. 
> 
> Hope you're all enjoying the fic so far. I think it's nearly halfway done now give or take, but who knows knowing me. I'm still working on it as often as I can so stay tuned! Next chapter hopefully up in about two weeks from now. Tell me what you think down below!


	13. Chapter 13

Another heat wave swelled as Aziraphale worked his way through cleaning the second floor. He sweated profusely the heat, opening every window he could find the let in some air and cool off as he cleaned. 

After cleaning the music room he turned his attention to another bedroom with an adjoining bath. It was just as dilapidated as the other rooms. There was a thick layer of dust covering the carpet, and large sections of the ceiling and walls were riddled with water stains and ripped up wallpaper. Most egregious of all was the large bookcase across the room, with dusty old books nearly completely withered by age and the elements. It hurt Aziraphale’s heart to see them in such a sad state.

“Such a waste,” he muttered sadly to himself, as he picked up one moldering hardcover carefully. Age had damaged it so much that he couldn’t even make out the title. 

He began with the bookcase, carefully taking off each book and running a soft dry rag over each cover and between each page to dust them off. He placed them carefully into the hall and stacked them against the wall. Perhaps Anthony could breathe some life into them with his magic.

After separating the books, he dusted off the bookcase. The beautiful light wood was also worn. He rubbed in a good polish that Anthony conjured into it. The smell of the polish was strong and a little off putting, but it helped the wood to regain some of its former glory and shine in the sunlight. 

Once the bookcase was clean he dusted again around the room. Pushing most of the dust onto the carpet, saving that project for last not wanting to dirty it with any other cleaning. He stripped off the worn gold and red striped comforter and red sheets of the bed and took them downstairs. His last chore for the day was cleaning the sheets and removing all of the dust and mold.

He heated a few large pots of water on the stove in preparation. He took out the sheets back out into the garden where a machine Anthony had conjured for him waited for him. Aziraphale had requested it specifically for this purpose although he contested it would prove useful in future. There was no need to rely on Anthony to always launder his things.

Anthony had conjured a large wooden basin with a thick lid. The basin had a large metal wheel on the side end, with four thick wooden prongs on the underside of the lid. Aziraphale secured his cleaning apron tightly before moving to pour the pots of warm water into the basin. It took a few trips of pouring the water in before the basin was more than half full with water.

He filled a second basin Anthony had prepared with cool water in the pump, again making a few trips filling up one of the large kitchen pots to fill the other basin before he was satisfied with the level of water.

After filling both basins with water, he took the first and largest sheet, the top comforter, and placed it inside the basin with hot water. He made sure all of the fabric was inside the basin and wet with water, before he poured in a generous amount of powdered soap into the mixture. He closed the lid of the basin afterwards, sealing it shut with a metal latch on the side. He grasped the metal wheel atop the basin and began to turn it. 

He felt quite a bit of resistance as he turned the wheel. His arms strained with effort as he turned the wheel, sloshing around the soapy water and wet fabric inside. After quite a bit of turning, he opened the lid of the machine and peered inside. The water had turned grey from all of the dust and grime.

He could see that the comforter still had a bit of grim on it so he re-positioned the sheet a bit, turning the fabric around in the water, and closed the lid again. He turned the wheel to slosh the mixture inside for a while longer before opening the lid again. After being thoroughly washed, he transferred the thick comforter, now heavy with water, into the basin with cool water. 

He took a large wooden paddle Anthony conjured for him and used it to move the fabric around the basin of cool water. His shoulders shook as he moved the fabric around in the water, his muscles straining from fighting the weight of the wet fabric. His arms were aching by the time he finished beating the comforter around in the water. He sweated through his thin shirt as he worked. He was panting in the weight of the heat around him by the time all of the soap was rinsed with the sheet. 

Finally, he took the sheet out of the wet basin. It was now thoroughly rinsed. He took it out of the second basin with some effort, the water inside of the sheet now thoroughly weighing it down. He took a long end and ran it through the rolling press on the side of the basin, turning the handle on the side to roll the pins together to squeeze as much excess water out as he could.

It was hard work, but by the time he was done, the comforter was thoroughly clean and wrung out of as much water as possible. Aziraphale hung it out on a line of thick twine stretched between two wooden posts Anthony had conjured for him. He let it dry out in the hot sun, watching the fabric flutter in the breeze. He turned to his side hearing a low hissing noise. Anthony looked up at him curiously.

“Looks good doesn’t it?” he asked, wiping some sweat from his brow. 

Anthony hissed in agreement. He pointed to the remaining pile of sheets stripped from the bed near the side. Aziraphale’s heart sank at the sight of it.

“Maybe I’ll save that for another day,” he said. “I think that’s enough work for today. 

Anthony nodded in agreement. Aziraphale spent the rest of the day lounging by the pool and walking around the garden with Anthony before retiring for the evening. Days flew by one after the other as they enjoyed the never ending summer sunshine. 

Aziraphale washed the rest of the sheets in the bedroom upstairs the next day day while Anthony used a bit of his magic to restore them to life again, making sure there were no more worn lengths in the fabric or small tears and holes due to moths and vermin. The next few days he focused on cleaning the room, giving the carpet the same treatment he used in the music room, and wiped down every counter he could. 

Soon, the bedroom shone with clean sheets and restored furniture as it had been in its former glory, all the wonderful colors of red and gold on the carpet, curtains, and sheets. Even the golden fleur de lis wallpaper was no longer peeling and worn, now shining beautifully when Aziraphale opened the curtain to let the light in. 

“Much better,” he smiled, looking into the room.

While his progress in fixing up the manor was coming along well, so too was his garden. Slowly but surely, his summer plants were growing. The cucumber seeds that Aziraphale had planted at the start of the month were coming along nicely. Earlier there were just tiny sprouts in the ground with small leaves. Now, the plants had grown under Aziraphale’s careful attention. The cucumber plant had grown tall and proud with wide leaves, and even some yellow flowering blooms. Anthony had explained that it would only be a few short weeks before the yellow flowers grew into delicious cucumbers.

The other plants continued to grow as well, although most of them would need a bit more time to grow. His plot of eggplants were growing into taller thin plants with wide leaves of their own, although they had not yet begun to flower like the cucumber had. His sweet potatoes were growing in much the same fashion, although unlike the other two plants, which grew out of the ground proudly on long thin stalks, the leaves of the sweet potato preferred to grow closer to the ground.

Anthony said they would be ready much closer to summer's end, like most of his crops. He saved one long thin row on the edge of the plot for his corn, keeping it well away from other crops so that when it grew into towering stalks, it would not cast a cooler shade onto the other plants. The corn was still growing, although it was already becoming quite tall. The stems shot up from the ground almost perfectly straight. The leaves were long and thin compared to the other crops. Anthony had looked at it after one day and told him later that night it was a little less than halfway grown by his estimation. It still needed to grow about one foot taller and produce more leaves before the corn would flower.

Aziraphale couldn’t really imagine it growing much more from how it was now, but he trusted Anthony’s judgement. But the plant he was most looking forward to eating was his cantaloupe fruit. It was the first fruit he tried to grow, and he was eager to see how they came out. The plant was still in its seedling stages, not yet flowering and it had some time left to grow but Aziraphale was proud of its progress all the same. 

He spent the remainder of his time in the garden after watering his plants collecting a bit of basil that needed harvesting and throwing them into the icebox for later. He and Anthony spent the remainder of the time by the pool while Aziraphale started another book by Jane Austen, now thoroughly hooked with her work. He began reading through her novel ‘Emma,’ which he found to be quite funny.

Days progressed onward as Anthony and him enjoyed the summer sunlight, Aziraphale finished cleaning the spare bedroom on the second floor and finally got around to laundering the rest of the sheets. Anthony’s magic truly was a godsend. Never did Aziraphale think he would detest laundering soiled clothes, especially heavy bedroom sheets.

After cleaning the bedroom he moved onto restoring the adjoined bath. The tile, unlike many other floors in the manor, was mostly intact. The checkered blue and white tiling came apart only where the floor met the edge of the wall. The cream colored wallpaper was peeling in some places, but not nearly as destroyed as the wallpaper in the music room. 

The white porcelain sink, bathtub, and toilet were covered in a layer of dust and grime that he was beginning to get used to, but all in all it seemed to still be mostly intact, save for the one chip in the bathroom mirror in the far left hand corner. 

After assessing the damage in the room, Aziraphale attributed the lack of damage to the pale green shutters that blocked out the sunlight from the room. The shutters remained shut even after all this time, and kept out the worst of the light damage. After studying the window for a moment he also noticed that, unlike the other many windows in the mirror, the glass was entirely intact.

“Well this certainly makes my work easier,” he said to himself. 

He cleaned out the porcelain bathtub first, correctly assessing that to be the hardest task. He turned on the tap at one point to see how the water pressure fared, as well as to rinse the vinegar water off of the porcelain, but winced at the brown water that spewed out. He quickly shut it off, not wanting the murky water to dirty the bath anymore than it already had. 

Anthony poked into the room by the time Aziraphale had moved on to cleaning out the sink, testing the water there too before he started cleaning up the mess he made, and finding to his dismay the same brown water coming out.

“Can you do something about this?” he asked, gesturing towards the stream of water coming out. “I think there’s something wrong with the pipes in this part of the house.”

Anthony nodded quickly in agreement, a look of concentration coming over his serpentine face. With a decisive flick of his tale, the same mirage like shimmer came across the room, before fading as fast as it came. Aziraphale tried the tap again and smiled at the side of clear crisp water poured out.

“You are wonderful as always dear,” he said with a smile.

Anthony ducked his head bashfully before slithering out of the room, presumably back downstairs to lurk around the garden. Aziraphale turned his attention to dusting off the window next, and then the shutters afterward. He took great care to wipe a wet cloth in between each layer of wood. It was light work, if time consuming. By the time he was done the sun was high in the sky, and even among the cool tiling of the room, the heat began to rise. 

Aziraphale was sweating in his thin clothes. He was eager to jump into the pool to cool off. He mopped up the tiling quickly with a well practiced ease. He found that after cleaning for so many days he was able to clean things much more quickly and efficiently. While at first he didn’t quite know what to do with a mop, now he could move it in quick practiced motions to pick up the vast majority of the grime. 

By the time he was done, the bathroom was sparkling clean, and would now only need a small touch of Anthony’s magic to undo the wear and tear that time had wrought. Aziraphale was eager to bound downstairs. He ate a lunch of cold cut sandwiches and cool beet salad, and ventured out to the pool.

Anthony was already waiting for him by his lounge chair. Aziraphale quickly changed into his bathing suit and put on a generous amount of sun oil. He did his usual routine of sitting in the shade and reading his book before taking a dip in the water. He swam around the pool and lapped around in the water. To his surprise, Anthony got up from his napping spot and joined him in the water.

Aziraphale watched him as he leaned his long serpentine body into the water. He glided over the water and stuck his tongue out towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale felt a laugh bubbling forward in his chest at the sight, and swam to meet him halfway. Where Aziraphale found that he had to tread water in the deeper end of the pool to stay afloat, it seemed that Anthony had no such problems.

His body stayed buoyant above the water almost effortlessly. Aziraphale smiled, and gently stroked the top of his head. They swam around the pool together, Anthony led the charge, while Aziraphale followed with an even breaststroke. 

Occasionally Aziraphale would dip beneath the water, touching down on the bottom of the pool, relishing the feeling of cool water on his face while Anthony stayed buoyant above. He waited for him patiently as they floated around the pool. They swam for a good long while before Anthony grew tired of the cold and exercise, and retreated back towards the warm tile next to Aziraphale’s lounge chair.

Aziraphale swam for a bit more before turning in as well and toweling off. He reapplied his sun lotion and continued reading his book, which he was already nearly done with.

Time passed wonderfully like this. Long summer days stretched on, almost endlessly and Anthony and Aziraphale spent them side by side. Slowly but surely, the manor was breathed back to life again between Aziraphale’s careful cleaning and Anthony’s magic. 

After cleaning the other guest room Aziraphale moved his way through other projects as days drew on. He turned his attention to an old dilapidated room which Aziraphale figured to have once been a study. There was a large fireplace at the back of the room with a beautiful light colored molding that was covered in dust and black with soot. Much like the bedroom, it was made mostly of brilliant reds and colors of gold. 

Aziraphale spent several days breathing life back into the study, dusting and hoovering the brilliant red carpet, before cleaning it with his special cleaning mix. He dedicated an entire day to laundering the worn red curtains being large ornate things worn by time. He hung them up to dry, and on the next day, he focused his attention on dusting and wiping down the walls and white molding around the room, caked heavily with dust.

He did the same with two large bookcases towering at the back of the room, largely empty save for a few books scattered about. He retrieved the books carefully flipping through them. They were in french, but for some reason, that didn’t hinder Aziraphale’s ability to read it. He figured they had something to do with law, although the particulars escaped them.

Anthony hissed at the doorway, announcing his presence after his usual romp in the garden. He looked at Aziraphale curiously as he held the book carefully in his hands.

“These poor things have been through it,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the worn cover. “I might move these back into the library, no sense keeping them here.” he said nodding towards the other books he placed carefully to the side. 

Anthony nodded in agreement. Aziraphale carefully gathered them together and placed them carefully on a spare shelf in the library for Anthony to restore later. He sighed at the sight of his beautiful library. It had been quite some time since he had been inside it. He ran a finger lovingly over the spines of the books. Perhaps he’d spend an evening here soon, he had forgotten how much he missed it.

Aziraphale went back upstairs to the study. There was just one more project to complete. Everything in the study was beautiful, but the most wonderful piece was the large mahogany table, with a matching plush chair. The table was a bit worn with age, but it had survived the years quite nicely. It was still a wonderful rich brown color with hints of red, save for a few worn spots.

Aziraphale used a special wood polish that Anthony conjured for him. The wood shone in the light by the time he was done rubbing it carefully into the desk. He did the same with the wooden chair, dusting the dark cushion attached to it lightly, leaving it for Anthony to restore later. He sighed at the sight of it. It truly was a beautiful study. 

After cleaning the study, he spent the next several days tidying other rooms on the second floor and discovering new rooms in the house. He found a large billiard room with a pool table, and comfortable looking lounge chairs covered in dust. The dark wood walls were covered in old weathered paintings, and from the ceiling hung lamps with wide shapes.

Aziraphale studied the paintings on the walls, most of them obviously inspired by old Greek legends. He spotted a series of paintings modeled after the classical traditional ancient greek pottery art. A series of paintings showcased Odysseus famous struggles. One where he was tied to the mast of his ship, struggling against the siren song of beautiful winged women. Another of him blinding the cyclops, and another with a beautiful woman, that only after some careful thought was most likely to be the powerful sorceress Circe.

There were also traditional greek vases scattered around the room, but most seemed chipped and worn under Aziraphale’s careful inspection, another thing for Anthony to restore later. On the floor of the room in front of an ornate fireplace was a bear skin rug, and on other ends of the room were two crossed sabers nailed to the wall, although one looked rusted and worn and hanging off one of the hinges 

Aziraphale looked around the room and frowned. The artwork was beautiful, but between the dark wood of the room and the general artwork and decor, it all seemed a bit too dark and rugged for his taste. He much preferred the lighter colors of the other rooms with the wide airy rooms and large windows. Whomever had owned the manor before he and Anthony moved in certainly had eclectic tastes. 

He dusted the billiard room, collecting sharp pottery shards for Anthony to restore later, and placed them carefully to the side and out of the way. After dusting the following day, he focused on hoovering the carpet, and the day after that, used wood polish to dust the walls and the billiard table.

It was a lovely thing, all long dark wood with a red velvet interior. There were some pool cues laying on a wrack to the side that were mostly in good condition. He gave them a good polish before moving on. 

It took him a whole other day to finish dusting off the billiard table and other areas of the room. The dust especially clung to the velvet of the interior of the pool table. By the time he was done, Aziraphale had done more dusting and sneezing in the last several days than he cared for. 

“You wouldn’t believe the state of that room,” Aziraphale sniffed later in bed that night, his nose still running a bit from all of the dust he inhaled that day.

“Oh?” Anthony said.

“All of the decor was so, I don’t know how to describe it,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Ugly?” Anthony guessed.

“Oh hush,” Aziraphale said.

“Well you don’t seem to care for it,” Anthony pointed out.

“It’s not that,” Aziraphale protested. “It’s just, well it doesn’t go together so nicely is all.” he said. Thinking of the dark wood of the walls with the greek pottery. “The greek art was lovely though, it’s just not where I would put it.” he explained. 

“We can always move things around,” Anthony said. “Redecorate.”

“Well, that’s true.” Aziraphale admitted. “Although I can’t see myself playing billiards anytime soon.”

“Not very exciting now is it?” Anthony said.

“Not as exciting as watching you cheat at backgammon,” Aziraphale shot back.

Aziraphale couldn’t see Anthony’s face but he could clearly imagine the wide grin on his face as he laughed in delight at Aziraphale’s barb.

“You got me there Angel,” he said.

“It just doesn’t make sense to me,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but think. “The rest of the manor is decorated so well, the style of the billiards room is completely different”. 

“Maybe someone else decorated it?” Anthony said.

“That could be it,” Aziraphale agreed. “It would explain the difference between them.”

“Well, now I need to see it for myself,” Anthony said, shifting in bed a bit.

“Don't get any ideas,” Aziraphale warned. “I don’t need you giving it an entire makeover overnight.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Anthony said. 

“Well good,” Aziraphale said. “Besides, maybe I want to help redecorate.”

“Of course,” Anthony said easily. 

The two chatted a bit more before going to sleep.

Summer days began to blend together after that. Aziraphale’s garden slowly grew, and long stretches of summer sunshine rolled by. Anthony and him spent long afternoons lounging by the pool and playing games in the sunroom. Anthony won round after round of backgammon under Aziraphale’s watchful eyes, but despite Aziraphale’s careful scrutiny, he could sense no foul play. Anthony was genuinely a good strategist.

“I think we should play another game tomorrow,” Aziraphale had pouted the night after a long afternoon of playing.

“Why, tired of losing?” Anthony asked with a cheeky laugh.

“Well, yes!” Aziraphale admitted. He found himself smiling despite his frustration. He couldn’t stay angry at Anthony for long. 

The two spent long evenings together while Aziraphale read and Anthony dozed off in the lounge. They spent many nights drinking wine and listening to music. One evening, Anthony cracked open one of the kegs in the cellar, and revealed a rich smokey whiskey. Anthony used his magic to pour them both a generous glass.

“Oh this is dangerous,” Aziraphale said, after taking a careful sip of his drink. The tasted strong, yet smooth.

Anthony nodded in agreement. His tongue flicked out into his bowl. They drank far too much that night, the whiskey going down too easily along with the beat of the music. Jazz, Anthony explained late at night after Aziraphale woke up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth and a pounding headache.

“Sounded lovely,” he garbled out, as he blindly reached over to his nightstand for the glass bottle of water he had left the previous night.

Just as he was drinking the remainder of what little water remained in the bottle, he felt his headache ease. He paused a bit, his mind whirling before whipping his head towards where Anthony lay in the darkness.

“Anthony,” he said carefully.

“Sorry Angel, I couldn’t help it.” he said, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

“You don’t need to save me from my poor choices,” Aziraphale groused. 

“Of course,” Anthony agreed. 

“Well, just don’t over do it, or else!” Aziraphale threatened.

Anthony let out a barking laugh at his threat. “Wouldn’t dream of it Angel,” he promised.

Days and days passed by endlessly, seamlessly even, and with each passing day, Aziraphale felt even closer to Anthony than the day before. He learned during long afternoons spent in the sunroom that Anthony was good at nearly every game they played together. Rummy, backgammon, chess, even solitaire. He didn’t even need to cheat half the time to win.

Aziraphale learned from long evenings spent together that Anthony preferred wine over whiskey, although he certainly liked to drink more of both. He liked to ramble drunkenly too, after they had gone to bed and he had transformed into a man. He had incredible ideas and thoughts, like the state of matter that made up stars in the night sky, or whether french rococo style interior design was superior to english georgian styles. 

He also had silly ideas too, like whether ducks had ears, and how animals might know how and where to migrate for winter. Aziraphale listened to him ramble with half an ear, just smiling at the tender sound of his voice. Just content to listen. After Anthony had tired himself out from all of the drinking and talking, he slept like the dead. He was still asleep when Aziraphale woke late the next morning, now a serpent coiled in the sheets.

Aziraphale ran a hand through his smooth scales and patted him on the head, but even then he didn’t stir. Only later in the afternoon did Anthony join him in the garden on their little bench by the duck pond, climbing into the bench with his long body.

Aziraphale patted his head again as they sat together and watched the ducks glide over the water in the distance. The air was warm, but the breeze was cool. The sun shone bright over the water in a beautiful shimmer and with Anthony by his side, Aziraphale could never dream of wanting to be anywhere else. He never wanted the light contented feeling he got every day in his heart to fade

But like all good things, nothing ever lasts forever. 

It all started to shift one morning as Aziraphale weeded his garden. The sky was still overcast despite the late morning hour, and the humidity in the air was thick and stifling. Aziraphale wiped the sweat from his brow, and kept a careful eye on the sky. Anthony slithered by his side just as he was getting up and dusting the dirt off of his trousers. He too looked up at the sky and gave out a low hiss.

“No point in watering the plants today is there?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony shook his head in agreement.

“When do you think it will come down?” Aziraphale wondered, gazing up at the gathering thick grey clouds above.

Anthony looked back at him and tossed his head in what might have been a shrug.

It didn’t begin to rain until the morning was nearly over and Aziraphale finally finished weeding his garden. He felt a slight drizzle start when he was putting away his things back into the garden shed, and it finally began to pour in earnest by the time he and Anthony escaped back into the house.

Aziraphale sighed at the sound of rain hitting the roof. It was soothing in a way, even though he and Anthony were now confined inside the house.

Anthony let out a low hiss by him. Aziraphale glanced down to see him glaring at the window out the window to the garden.

“Worried about the plants?” he wondered.

Anthony shook his head, he hissed again. 

“Oh, not a fan of rain are you?” he asked in amusement. 

Anthony shot him a look, causing Aziraphale chortle. 

“Come now, we shouldn’t let the rain ruin our day,” he said, leading Anthony out of the kitchen and further into the house.

Aziraphale spent half of the afternoon tidying up another bedroom upstairs with some light dusting before relaxing with Anthony back in the sun room. Despite the rain, it was still humid and warm out. Aziraphale shuffled a deck of cards and began dealing them out as Anthony watched the rain hitting the large glass windows.

Aziraphale looked outside as well, watching large sheets of water blurring the glass peering out into the garden.

“Well it’s certainly coming down,” he said. 

Anthony nodded and soon after they turned to their game. 

The rain kept coming down for the rest of the day, slowing at times, before pouring down again. By the time dinner had come and gone, Aziraphale was beginning to worry about the state of his garden.

“Do you think the plants will be alright?” he asked, after they had retired to the living room. 

Anthony hissed what sounded like a yes to Aziraphale’s ears.

“Are you sure?” he asked, while anxiously ringing his hands together. “I don’t want the poor things to drown.

Anthony nodded again in reassurance. 

They relaxed in the living room for a bit before Aziraphle decided to turn in early, the dark of the house and the rain making him drowsy. He bid Anthony good night and settled into bed. The sound of the rain was muffled just a little bit in the bedroom, although he could still hear the sound of it causing a gentle thudding against the roof.

Among the dark of the room and the sound of the rain, Aziraphale was soon swept into sleep.

***

Azirapahle awoke with a start, his heart pounding and his skin slick with sweat. He looked around the room wildly, unseeing in the dark confused, startled, and afraid. The wind was still howling and the rain still falling, but it took him a few heavy heartbeats to recognize a new sound to the mix. There was a low rumbling sound, and then a sharp crack of noise. 

He reached out blindly towards the space next to him, numb with terror. The space next to him was empty and cool to the touch, Anthony had not yet settled into bed for the night. Aziraphale heard another crack of thunder and shivered in the dark. 

“A-Anthony!” He couldn’t help but call out, feeling alone and frightened.

The only sound that greeted him was the howl of the wind. His heart stuttered in his chest and he began to feel dizzy with anxiety. 

“Anthony?” He called out again, his voice cracking with fear.

Another roar of thunder grumbled in the air and Aziraphale closed his eyes and huddled into himself. He didn’t call out again. 

He didn’t know how long he spent huddled over in the dark shivering with panic before he heard the creak of the door open and then close. He looked up unseeing in the dark as Anthony settled into bed.

“Still raining I see,” Anthony said cheerfully, sliding into bed.

Aziraphale couldn’t say anything. His mouth was clamped shut with fear.

“Are you asleep Angel?” Anthony asked, Aziraphale hearing the frown in his voice.

Aziraphale pressed his lips together, desperately trying to keep the sweeping wave of terror inside him.

“Angel?” Anthony asked again, sweeping a careful hand over his shoulder. 

It was the warmth of Anthony’s touch that broke him. Aziraphale began to sob in earnest. His chest shuddered with suppressed gasps and shuddering breaths.

“Angel?” Anthony called out in alarm, gripping his shoulder comfortingly.

Aziraphale gripped onto Anthony desperately, unable to form words yet. Anthony held him tightly, running a hand through his hair comfortingly. Eventually, Aziraphale gathered enough strength to settle his breath.

“What’s wrong, how can I help?” Anthony asked desperately.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispered with heaving breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Anthony said. “I’ve got you Angel.” 

Aziraphale buried his face into the warmth of Anthony’s shoulder. The thunder roared around them and he trembled in his grasp.

“The thunder, I don’t like it,” he admitted.

“Oh Angel,” Anthony breathed, tightening his grip.

“I’m just being so silly.” Aziraphale sniffed, blinking wet tears out of his eyes.

“Shh,” Anthony hushed, rubbing his back comfortingly. 

“I don’t even know why I feel this way?” Azirapahle said, scrubbing his eyes roughly with his hand.

“It’s okay Angel, I know,” Anthony soothed.

“I just wish I could remember why,” Aziraphale said with stuttering breath.

“I’m sorry,” Anthony breathed, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Why?” Azirapahle couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not like any of this is your fault.” 

Anthony said nothing as Aziraphale dried his eyes and took a few deep calming breaths. 

“Thank you Anthony, you always know how to make me feel better,” he said.

Anthony said nothing in response. Aziraphale frowned at the silence. 

“Anthony?” he asked. 

He heard a long deep sigh echo despite the roar and pounding of the wind.

“How do you know that?” Anthony said, carefully.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale said. 

“How do you know this isn’t my fault?” Anthony asked. 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath, dumbfounded.

“Anthony, come now you don’t mean that.” he said, placing his hand on Anthony’s side.

He could feel Anthony begin to pull away from him. He found himself reaching his arms out, grasping at air as Anthony shifted his weight on the bed.

“Anthony, I don’t understand,” Aziraphale said, helplessly.

“I know,” he said. 

“Then you can just tell me, just, let’s just talk,” Aziraphale said.

“Angel, you know I can’t do that,” Anthony answered.

Aziraphale felt his mouth close shut and he blinked in confusion. “What are you saying?” he asked.

“Just forget it,” Anthony said, shifting away from Aziraphale. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Forget,” Azirapahel said slowly. He let out a laugh that sounded odd in his ears. “Forget, of course.”

“Angel,” he heard Anthony say sharply. “I didn’t mean-”

“No no, you’re right. I won’t worry about it,” he said, waving his hand in the air.

The thunder had finally begun to die down, but the wind and rain still pounded the roof of the building. Aziraphale could almost feel it beating in tandem with the thundering of his heart.

“Angel,” Anthony whispered. 

“I won’t trouble you any further,” Aziraphale said. He lay down in bed and turned away from Anthony, blinking back tears again.

“Angel please,” Anthony said pleadingly, putting a hand on his side tentatively.

Aziraphale ignored him, biting his lip hard not to let any sound out.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Anthony told him despite the silence. “I just, there’s so much I just can’t say,” he said helplessly.

Aziraphale said nothing further, not trusting the sound of his voice.

Anthony sighed again,

“You’re right to be mad at me,” he said. “But I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Azirapahel closed his eyes, his chest heaving silently as he fought to keep tears in.

“I’m right here,” Anthony said. “And I’m not going anywhere, promise.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t keep the tears inside anymore. He buried his face into his pillow and cried hot tears while Anthony ran a soothing hand against his side. He didn’t say anything more, he didn’t have to. 

Eventually he lay down by Aziraphale’s side, not touching him nor embracing him, just sharing his space. Eventually Aziraphale’s tears dried along with the howl of the wind. Exhausted and wrung out Aziraphale fell asleep to Anthony’s warm comforting presence ever near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done! I hope you all enjoy this one. I hope you're all doing okay out there and staying safe. Times are pretty scary now but I'm still going to do my best to publish each chapter as always. What I wouldn't give to be stuck in a beautiful mansion like Aziraphale and Anthony lol, although I could do without the cleaning. Next chapter will come up in a few weeks or so so stay tuned.


	14. Chapter 14

The rain might have stopped by the next morning, but Aziraphale’s foul mood persisted. He woke up that morning entirely alone. The day was warm, but grey and overcast. A heavy mist fell over the manor, and it seemed to match Aziraphale’s gloom. 

By the time Aziraphale had finished morosely eating a small breakfast of toast, Anthony was still nowhere to be found. Aziraphale half finished his breakfast, saving half of his second slice of toast for later, and washed his plate methodically

The house was quiet without Anthony, even though he couldn’t speak much as a serpent. Aziraphale went through the motions of his day with half a heart, glancing over the garden for any weeds, and haunting the second floor like a ghost halfheartedly looking through decrepit rooms to clean, and inevitably moving onto the next without attempting it, restless and tired all at once.

By late afternoon, he had only dusted a few choice corners halfheartedly and found himself collapsed in his armchair in the library. No matter how many times Aziraphale ran Anthony’s words from last night, he just couldn’t understand. How could Aziraphale’s missing memories ever be Anthony’s fault? How could any of this ever be his fault?

Aziraphale clenched his hands tightly on either side of his arm chair, head bowed with anger. He was angry with Anthony. Still angry with him, in fact. Angry with him for blaming himself. Angry with him for not communicating properly with Aziraphale when he tried to understand. Angry that he tried to comfort him so soon after pushing him away. Angry that Anthony promised to stay by his side, and had now left Aziraphale all alone.

But more importantly, Aziraphale was most angry with himself. 

Aziraphale breathed deeply and slowly unclenched his hands. How could he push away Anthony like that? Even when he realized his wrongdoing and tried to make amends. What sort of person was Aziraphale for getting so caught up in himself and his feelings that he couldn’t even take Anthony at his word?

Aziraphale let out a deep breath and breathed in deeply again. He straightened up in his seat and tilted his head up, breathing in and out. It’s not like he made things easy for Anthony either with his foul temper. There was nothing else for it. He’d just have to go find him and apologize. 

With new determination, Aziraphale got up from his seat, stretched out his back, and headed out of the library. He didn’t know where he might be hiding, but he couldn’t have gone far. It’s not like there were many places for them to go.

Aziraphale had just turned the corner in the hallway leading back towards the kitchen when he saw him. Anthony looked at him from the other end of the hallway, frozen. They stared at each other for a long moment before Aziraphale shook himself out of his trance.

“Look at us,” he couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re being ridiculous.”

He saw Anthony nearly slump at his words, the tension leaving his long body all at once. Aziraphale approached Anthony carefully while Anthony crawled to the middle of the hall, meeting him halfway. Aziraphale kneeled down and raised a tentative hand towards Anthony’s head, not knowing if his touch would be welcome.

While he kept it hovering above it, Anthony leaned into his touch, hissing happily.

“Let’s talk through it tonight,” Aziraphale decided then and there. “You and me.”

Anthony met his gaze and nodded solemnly. 

They spent the time for the rest of the day quietly, Aziraphale cooking a simple yet filling dinner of pasta with tomato sauce with basil, suddenly quite hungry, before retiring to the sitting room for the rest of the day.

The fog had not yet lifted on the grounds. It made the lighting of the room a bit dark, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. He continued reading his latest book, ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcott, having already read all of Jane Austen’s works. 

Anthony snoozed in the lounge for an hour or two before waking to slide off of and cozy up near Aziraphale. He stretched his long upper body to drape over the side of Aziraphale’s chair, and glanced at the text curiously. 

“Do you want to read it?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony shook his head and hissed, looking at the book and then back to Aziraphale. It took Aziraphale a moment to understand what he meant.

“Oh, do you want me to read it aloud?” he asked.

Anthony nodded his head in answer.

Aziraphale flushed a bit under the weight of his eyes. “Well, of course,” he said, and flipped back to the very first page. 

“Christmas won’t be christmas without any presents,” Aziraphale started, enjoying Anthony’s careful weight by his side.

He spent the better part of an hour reading the first two chapters for Anthony, pausing every now and again to take a sip of water Anthony had conjured for him to clear his throat. 

After finishing the second chapter, Anthony put on a record. It wasn’t bebop. Instead, it was the beautiful sound of a woman singing with sweeping instruments. It took him a moment to recognize that she was singing in french, and it took half a second after that to realize he could understand what she was saying.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the lyrics. He turned to Anthony. Anthony looked at him carefully. The woman sang about being in love and being held by her love, roses blooming from their affection.

Aziraphale stared at Anthony in shock. The sweeping instrumentals, the beautiful and passionate singing, it all just seemed so romantic. 

“I didn’t know you liked this sort of music,” Aziraphale found himself saying. 

Anthony hissed, and rubbed his head against Aziraphale’s side.

Aziraphale found his heart pound dangerously in his chest. He felt very nervous and wrong footed. Azirapahle swallowed heavily, and ran a hand against Anthony’s smooth scales. His mind raced.

The record ended, and then looped to another song. The singer was the same woman. It was another romantic song about being in love with someone amongst a crowd of people, although it was a bit more upbeat than the last one.

Aziraphale felt his face grow hot. Anthony had rested his head and long neck against Aziraphale’s shoulder. His body was cool, but the weight was comforting. The rest of the song ended and another played, but Aziraphale could barely hear it no. Distracted, his heart racing in his chest.

“She’s lovely,” Aziraphale found himself saying finally. “The singer I mean,” he said. He winced at his own words. Even to his own ears, he sounded nervous. 

If Anthony detected any apprehension in his voice he didn’t acknowledge it. A few more songs played. Anthony lightly dozed on his shoulder until the record looped again to the first song. Anthony moved his head from his shoulder and stretched his long body languidly. He slumped back onto the floor looking behind Aziraphale and gestured for him to follow. 

Aziraphale got up from the lounge and followed him down the hall. He realized halfway that Anthony was leading him to the sun room. Aziraphale walked into the sun room, and was encased in a pale sliver of a light. The clouds were still thick and grey, and hinted at more rain, but for now the sun still shone.

On the table was a chess board and two glasses of white wine waiting for them. Aziraphale smiled at the sight. 

“Eager to beat me again?” he asked.

Anthony tilted his head in response, almost like a shrug.

“Oh, I’m sure you will again,” Aziraphale protested. He sat down and reached for his glass. 

Aziraphale and Anthony spent the rest of the afternoon playing chess, and afterwards backgammon. Aziraphale gave it his best shot, drawing each game out for as long as he could, only to lose to Anthony’s wit. Just when he thought he figured out Anthony’s strategy, Anthony would change it up, leaving Aziraphale back at square one.

It was frustrating, but also exciting. No game was like the one before. Aziraphale found himself wracking his brain each time, trying to figure out another strategy to win. By the time the sun was setting and the clouds gathered together once again, Aziraphale hadn’t won a single game, but it hadn’t felt like he had lost either. 

“Well it’s just as I thought,” Aziraphale said slumping back in his seat. “You are a force to be reckoned with.”

Anthony hissed happily in response. He bobbed his head shyly.

“Dinner then?” Aziraphale asked, just a bit woozy from the wine earlier on a half empty stomach. 

Anthony nodded in agreement. 

Aziraphale cooked a simple dinner with the food Anthony had conjured. He cooked chicken, and put in a mixture of egg and flour with rice, along with some vegetables from Aziraphale’s garden. Just as Anthony had said, the potatoes and greens from the garden hadn’t spoiled, even weeks later. 

After dinner, and a bit more wine, Aziraphale was beginning to tire from all of the food and drink. The rain had started up again. It was a much more gentle one than the night before. 

“I think I’ll turn in soon,” he said, once the last dish was washed.

Anthony hesitated, before nodding. 

“I’m okay now,” Aziraphale said, and patted his head gently after noticing his apprehension. 

Aziraphale took a quick shower and dried his hair carefully with a towel. The rain was calmer and gentler, and far more soothing. No matter how much Aziraphale strained his ears, he couldn’t hear even the gentlest roar of thunder in the distance. Finally feeling soothed and secure, Aziraphale fell into sleep.

***  
Aziraphale woke gently to Anthony climbing into bed. He didn’t sit up, he just lay down and waited for him settle himself. Together they lay side by side. Aziraphale faced Anthony in the dark.

“I’m sorry, for last night,” Aziraphale said. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did.”

“You’re sorry?” Anthony said. “Angel, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who upset you.”

“Oh I was quite upset all on my own,” Aziraphale countered.

“But I didn’t help,” Anthony said.

“You did,” Aziraphale insisted. “You always help.”

To that, Anthony had nothing to say.

“It’s just,” Aziraphale continued. “It’s awful, not having any memory,” he said. “I try not to think about it, but, that thunder,” he said, with a shudder.

“You’re frightened of it,” Anthony said.

“Terrified,” Aziraphale clarified. “And I don’t know why.” 

“I’m sorry,” Anthony said.

“Don’t,” Aziraphale said, with a hitch in his breath.

“Sorry,” Anthony said again, and Aziraphale could practically hear the wince in his voice.

“Well, you’re forgiven,” Aziraphale said. “No we can put that whole terrible business behind us,” Aziraphale said with a wave of his hand.

Anthony was silent once more.

“Unless you’d rather not?” Aziraphale asked.

“It’s just,” Anthony started. “There’s a lot you don’t know about Angel.”

“I do know that,” Aziraphale countered.

“That’s not,” Anthony sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I think I understand, a little bit I mean.” Aziraphale said. “You feel responsible for everything.”

“That’s not it,” Anthony protested.

“Oh I think it is,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t have to know everything to know you’re a good man Anthony.”

Anthony was silent again, having nothing more to counter. 

“Whoever did this, to us, they are not a good person,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t need to know anything else to know that.” he said. “But I know that neither of us are alone. That’s enough for me anyway,” he said.

“You’re too good Angel,” Anthony said, finally.

“No more than you,” Aziraphale countered. 

“I just wish I could tell you everything,” Anthony whispered.

“I know,” Aziraphale said, taking Anthony’s warm comforting hand in his and giving it a light squeeze.

Anthony squeezed his hand in return. Aziraphale smiled. Despite the dark, and despite the wind flowing outside, and the cold dark fog that was his memory, he was happy. He was happy to smile with Anthony by his side. It had only been a few months, but it felt like they had always known each other.

A thought came to him then, not suddenly, and not all at once. It was more like a trickle of water from a gently flowing river. It took it’s time, but eventually, it would reach the shore.

“Anthony,” he said slowly, as he processed his thoughts. “Before I lost my memory, did we know each other?”

Aziraphale heard Anthony suck in a loud shuddering breath that was an answer all of its own. 

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, and grasped Anthony’s hand tightly. His skin felt clammy and he could feel his heart speed up in his chest. 

“We did, didn’t we,” he said quietly.

“Yesss,” Anthony said. 

He let go of Aziraphale’s hand to hold him close.

“All of this time,” Aziraphale said numbly. “How long have we known each other?”

To that Anthony had no answer.

“Did we know each other long?” he asked. “We did, didn’t we?” he guessed.

“For many years, yes.” Anthony answered.

“But, why? I don’t understand,” Aziraphale said. He felt his body begin to shake. 

“Shh, Angel it’s alright,” Anthony said.

Unlike before, where tears overwhelmed him, this time, his eyes remained dry. It took him awhile to realize why. It wasn’t despair that moved him. It was another heady and dizzying emotion that made him quake with feeling.

Aziraphale clenched his jaw as his body shook. 

“How dare they,” Aziraphale said, his voice low and strange even to his own ears. 

“Angel?” Anthony said.

But Aziraphale could barely hear him over the roar of his blood.

“How dare they make me forget!” Aziraphale snarled.

Aziraphale could feel Anthony flinch in his embrace. He barely noticed over his hot rage. 

“Angel, please,” he said, desperately.

Aziraphale let out a long tired breath, trying to cool down his temper. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. His blood still felt underneath his skin. “It’s just, when I stop to think how much was taken from me-”

“I understand,” Anthony said immediately. 

“You do, don't you?” Aziraphale said. He felt his rage fade.

“Yesss,” Anthony said. 

Aziraphale felt a deep wave of sadness hit him. He wasn’t the only one who had lost everything here.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, as he blinked wet tears out of his eyes. 

“I know,” Anthony said. 

Aziraphale could hear the determination in his voice, and the conviction. For the first time in what felt like all night, he smiled. 

“Is it wrong, to think that I’m glad you’re here with me. To face this, I mean?” Aziraphale asked.

“Never,” Anthony said. 

They didn’t say anything more that night. Aziraphale’s mind and heart reeled at the newest revelation. They stayed up for a long time thereafter, holding each other. No matter what they faced moving forward, they wouldn’t do it alone.

***

Many things changed after that night. Aziraphale’s routine changed drastically. No more did he meander along through his chores, cleaning the house in the morning and then relaxing in the evening and afternoon at his leisure. Instead, he moved through the house like a man possessed.

He rose early that morning and changed briskly into his simple cleaning clothes. Anthony looked up at him from where his long body was curled on the bed. 

“Go back to sleep,” Aziraphale said over his shoulder. 

Despite his suggestion, Anthony watched him leave the room, his eyes a heavy weight on Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale headed straight out the door, not allowing himself to be distracted. 

He took his cleaning supplies out of the closet and got straight to work. He skipped the second part of the house and went straight to the large dining room he had been avoiding cleaning for weeks now. The thought of how he avoided working on such a large project for so long made him grimace. 

He got to work sweeping the floor, bending underneath the long wooden dining room table, and covered it in a white tattered cloth to collect all of the dust. After that was done, he mopped the floor, scrubbing it again and again, frequently replacing the bucket of water and soap as needed until it shone. He moved onto removing the long white tarps off of furniture, the dining room table to start, and then a large cabinet made of wood and glass, which contained beautiful pieces of porcelain plates and china cups. 

He cleaned the entire dining room throughout the entirety of the day. He polished silver, wiped down wood, and dusted cutlery, all with a sharp eye. He kept a lookout for anything amiss, anything that looked like it might be a tether of a spell. In the old fairy tales, it was always an innocuous, almost innocent thing, very common for the time. A spinning wheel, an apple, a rose. Anything and everything in the manor could be the key to breaking the spell cast over them both, and it was Aziraphale’s job to find it.

He worked well through the day, stopping only to take short breaks for water and a little bit of food, before continuing. He turned over every plate, looked under every table or cabinet, turned over every tablecloth stacked in search. It took him the remainder of the day's light, but by the time the sun set, everything in the dining room had been cleaned, waiting for Anthony’s restorative magic.

Anthony came in to check on him when he was done, hissing lowly in the room and how it shone. 

“Nothing here,” Aziraphale said, simply while putting his supplies away. He was careful not to mention his sore muscles. 

Anthony looked at him with an air of worry.

“Don’t worry, I’m all done now,” Aziraphale said, with a reassuring smile.

Despite his words, Anthony didn’t seem all that convinced. 

Aziraphale spent the rest of the fading sunlight eating a simple yet filling dinner provided by Anthony, and practically sank into his armchair in the sitting room. Anthony played another record with the french singer he liked so much, Edith Piaf, Anthony had told him later that night in their bedroom, when they turned in early afterward.

Aziraphale slept hard and fast, barely waking when Anthony had climbed into bed in human form. He rose early again the next morning. All of his muscles were still sore from all of the intensive cleaning he had done the night before. 

Anthony looked at him carefully as he finished dressing. “I’ll see you later,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

He left the room to get started on his next project. This time, it was the truly daunting task of cleaning the ballroom. It was a wide spacious room with long wide white columns that stretched to the tall ceiling and over half a dozen intricate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Even under Aziraphale’s careful eye, it was easy to see how this room was once a thing of beauty, perhaps even one of the signature pieces in the entire manor.

The present day room was entirely different, however. 

The columns that reached the ceiling were covered in cobwebs, and some of the marble was cracked and had fallen onto the floor. Half of the large ornate windows that peered out into the garden were broken, and clouded with grime. There were cobwebs and water damage where the edges of the wall met the ceiling. The beautiful ornate molding on the edges of the ceiling was also cracked and damaged. 

One of the beautiful golden chandeliers that had hung from the ceiling must have fallen to the floor at one point, as it cracked the faded tile beneath it on impact. Dozens, if not hundreds of shards of beautiful crystal littered the floor where it had fallen. 

Aziraphale bent down and took one large piece looking it over sadly. The faded crystal twinkled just a bit in the bright morning light. 

“Such a shame,” he said to himself. 

Whoever had abandoned the manor before his and Anthony ‘moved in,’ had certainly done the old building a great disservice. 

Aziraphale got straight to cleaning. He gathered up all of the bits of chandelier first and put them to the side, before moving onto sweeping the floor. It took him a long time to finish sweeping the spacious floor, as he picked up stray parts of broken marble tile as he went.

The very center of the ballroom had a decorative tiling that at one point must have been a beautiful mosaic inlay. While most of the tiling was a white marble with curling gold patterned inlay, the center motif of the flooring was against all odds, still very much intact. The centerpiece was a design of golden and light blue inlay, making up curling flower heads centered around a central dark blue fleur de lis pattern. 

Aziraphale swept the tile, and marveled at the beauty of the room, before getting straight back to work. After sweeping the floor, he mopped up carefully after, making sure to keep an eye out for any nook and cranny. 

By the time he was done cleaning the floor and bending down and picking up every stray tile and putting it to the side for Anthony to restore later, his lower back ached terribly, and his arms felt quite sore. 

Aziraphale suspected he was still a bit fatigued after cleaning the dining room the other day, but there was nothing much else for it. If he wanted his memories of Anthony back, he would have to work harder.

He spent the remainder of the day cleaning up the ballroom, wiping down surfaces, chasing away cobwebs, and looking for anything that seemed even the slightest bit out of place. 

By the time the sun was letting out a pale golden light into the room, all of his work was done. His body was sore, and his stomach was ravenous from skipping two whole meals. 

Aziraphale’s hands shook ever so slightly as he wiped them off with a clean rag and gathered his supplies. He heard a sharp hissing noise over his shoulder, and whirled around to find Anthony by the entryway.

“All done,” he said, gesturing to the room with no small bit of pride.

Anthony didn’t seem too pleased by his progress though. Instead he hissed again, more sharply this time and crept closer to Aziraphale. 

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, watching him bob his head up and down anxiously.

Anthony gestured to his little circle of supplies on the floor, and then quickly to Aziraphale. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m fine,” Aziraphale said, waving his concern away. 

Anthony hissed again and then looked pointedly at his stomach.

“I’ll eat now that the work is all done,” Aziraphale answered.

He bent down to gather his bucket and other supplies, inwardly wincing at the strain of his lower back, but was careful not to let any of his discomfort show. 

“Let me just put these away first,” he said.

Anthony looked at him and then looked at the supplies he carried in his arms. In the blink of an eye, they vanished. 

“Anthony,” he huffed.

Anthony didn’t seem apologetic at all. Instead, he gave Aziraphale a pointed look, and went for the entryway, turning his head around to gesture Aziraphale to follow.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes in response, and trailed after Anthony. He kept his hands clasped behind himself to hide how they shook. The hunger in his stomach was a sharp and keen presence. He felt light headed, and had to fight to keep his irritation at Anthony at bay, knowing full well the true source of his foul mood.

Aziraphale smelled the food before he saw it. He made out the pleasant smell of citrus, and the undeniable smell of salmon. His stomach growled loudly at the smell, causing Aziraphale to flush in embarrassment. Anthony shot him a knowing look.

“Oh stop it,” he said with a frown.

Anthony led him to the kitchen where the table had already been set with a deep red table cloth and beautiful plates of china. A large piece of salmon was ready at the center of each plate, although it was only Aziraphale that seemed to have any rice or steam vegetables accompanying it as well.

There were two large crystal glasses of water in place, and a bottle of white wine at the ready. Aziraphale tried not to look too eager as he sat down, and carefully placed a crisp white napkin in his lap.

“Thank you for making this,” he said. “It looks wonderful.”

Anthony hissed, and looked quite pleased with himself. Aziraphale took a fork and knife in each hand, and carefully cut off a reasonable bit of salmon. He could feel Anthony’s sharp gaze on him. Between that and the hunger he felt, his hands start to shake even more. 

The first bite of salmon was absolutely divine. He could taste the sweetness of honey and the aroma of rosemary, along with the natural taste of the fish. He nearly groaned with relief at the taste.

“This is excellent,” he said, after he swallowed. 

Anthony nodded his head 

“Don’t stop on my account,” Aziraphale said, gesturing towards Anthony’s plate.

Anthony bent his head towards his plate and scooped up the entire cut of salmon into his large mouth. He swallowed the entire thing whole. Azirapahle watched in awe as he did it, always surprised by the way Anthony ate as a serpent, no matter how many times he did it.

Once Anthony had finished swallowing his share of food, he looked towards Aziraphale expectantly again.

“Well then,” he mumbled, digging back into his food.

Despite Aziraphale’s best efforts to eat like a civilized person, he found himself quickly cutting through his salmon and chewing it quickly, enthralled by the taste, and the fact he was finally filling his empty stomach. He took large bites of rice and vegetables in between as well, washing them down with the occasional sip of water, enjoying how every last bit of food was cooked to perfection.

He was entirely done with his meal by the time he even considered the bottle of wine to the side. He poured Anthony and himself a generous amount. Aziraphale leaned back in his seat and sighed with relief as he took a careful sip of wine, as he didn’t want to drink it all at once.

“Lovely as always,” he smiled to Anthony. He was in a much more cheerful mood, now that he had food in his stomach.

Anthony made no noise in response. He vanished the plates away before Aziraphale could even get up to wash them. Just as Aziraphale was about to make his protest known, a circular porcelain bowl appeared in front of him.

Aziraphale looked at the dish curiously. There, garnished with some raspberries, was an inviting dish of creme brulee.

“Anthony, you shouldn’t have,” Aziraphale said, already reaching for the spoon that had appeared with the dessert. 

Anthony hissed with pleasure as he dug into the dish. The top was a pleasant looking brown, caramelized with heat. The whole dish felt warm when he bit into it. Aziraphale moaned at the taste. It was sweet, but not overly so. It had a sweet, creamy taste, and the crunch of the top layer of the desert blended well with the gooey cream of the rest.

The dessert disappeared as quickly as his dinner. Aziraphale finally felt well and truly full by the time it was entirely gone. He took another long sip of his wine, his glass now almost halfway gone.

“You are a talented chef Anthony,” Aziraphale said over his wine. “I would like to learn to make something like this soon,” he said. 

Anthony hissed in agreement. They only spent a little bit more time in the living room together, about an hour or so. Aziraphale was sleepy with wine and the soreness of a long hard day’s work. He turned in early, and took a quick warm bath before climbing into bed.

His body felt even more sore than the day before. Aziraphale sighed to himself, and tried to cast the sensation of his aching body out of his mind. Soon afterwards, his body relaxed, and his mind fell into sleep.

***  
Aziraphale was groggy and sore when he woke up to Anthony entering the room. He blinked his eyes tiredly in the pitch dark.

“Anthony?” he said.

“I’m here Angel,” Anthony said. 

“Is it late?” he asked, feeling well and truly wrung out.

“Not any more than usual.” Anthony replied. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said.

“It feels that way because you worked too hard today,” Anthony chastised him.

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale protested.

“Not eating all day even?” Anthony asked. 

“I wasn’t that hungry,” Aziraphale fibbed.

“Or that fact you haven't even been in the garden all day,” Anthony pointed out. 

“It was a busy day today,” Aziraphale protested.

“You weren’t in the garden the other day either,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale winced at the truth of his words. 

“You’re taking all of this too far,” Anthony said. “You’re exhausting yourself, like someone else you knew not that long ago,” he said pointedly. 

Aziraphale lowered his head, now well and truly chastised.

“I just want to remember who you are,” he said, defeated.

“Oh Angel, I know,” he said, taking Aziraphale into his arms. “And you will, I promise.”

“How do you know that?” Aziaphale asked.

“Because I know you,” Anthony said. “And I know you can do miracles.”

Aziraphale flushed at his words and let his head fall onto Anthony’s shoulder. “Well I suppose you would know best,” he said. “Sometimes I feel like you know me better than I do,” he admitted.

“I should say the same to you,” Anthony said, and Aziraphale could hear the smile in his voice. “Now, do you promise not to overdo it again?”

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, before giving in. “Fine, I promise.” 

“Good,” Anthony said. “Now let’s go to bed, you’ve looked exhausted all night.

Aziraphale flushed harder hearing his words. He had been so careful too!

“Well alright he said,” his body feeling eager for sleep. “Have it your way then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! I hope you guys are enjoying the story. The song Anthony and Aziraphale are listening to are La Vie en Rose and La foule by Edith Piaf. Give it a listen if you have the time.


	15. Chapter 15

The remainder of summer moved swiftly for Aziraphale. He went back to work in the garden, making sure everything was watered and weeded properly as the summer rains finally subsided. Anthony had apparently been taking care of it for him while he had been on his cleaning binge, because even after his lack of attention, every growing plant looked vibrant and well cared for. 

Aziraphale smiled at his crops, most of them rapidly approaching harvest time. The corn stalks had grown proud and tall, and the eggplant was beginning to bud white bulbs. Aziraphale looked over his cucumber crops and saw long vibrant groups of the vegetable sequestered near the ground.

He inspected a few carefully, seeing if there were any marked with colors of yellow, but all of them seemed ripe. He could see Anthony approach him from where he was kneeled down on the ground in the corner of his eyes.

“Looks about done doesn’t it?” he asked him.

Anthony inspected the crop closely, lowering his upper body downwards until his head was nearly level with the ground. Aziraphale watched him disappear into the vegetation, the only glance of him being the brief flash of red scales through the growth.

Anthony came back shortly after seeming satisfied.

“Shall I get my basket then?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony let out a low his in agreement. Aziraphale spent the rest of the morning harvesting his cucumber crop and rinsing the vegetables in the sink before storing them in the icebox.

For lunch he cut up some tomatoes, red onion and cucumber and added some light vinegar and feta cheese before mixing it all around to make a cold summer vegetable salad. 

For the rest of the summer, Aziraphale turned to tending his garden before cleaning another room on the upper floor, now nearly always under Anthony’s careful eye as to not overwork himself.

Aziraphale spent the following weeks cleaning the rest of the manor as best he could. He spent days cleaning the various, powder rooms, and bedrooms. Some were larger than others, and took several days to complete, while others were more humble in size.

Aziraphale figured some might have been servant quarters, from the looks of them, but there were other hidden rooms upstairs as well. Through his careful cleaning, Aziraphale also stumbled upon hidden stairways that connected rooms together, presumably for servants to work around unannounced.

He found a second study, an exercise room with large rusty weights piled around the room, and a boxing bag. He found a tea room with an old wide circular table and large round windows facing out to the front entrance. 

The one that truly offended Anthony, however, was a dilapidated conservatory where the few plants remaining had run wild without anyone to tend to them. 

He hissed loudly in outrage when they had discovered it together. Aziraphale nearly dropped the bucket in his hand in surprise. Ivy crawled from the outside of the house and into the conservatory, clinging up from the wall and onto the ceiling. 

The plants that were left inside were overgrown as well. The wooden plant beds that lined the room had completely overgrown. They pooled over the bed and onto the floor like water pouring downwards. The floor was covered with dirt, grim, and plants cracking the beautiful marble tile beneath it.

“It’s a forest in here,” Aziraphale said, setting down his supplies, already feeling overwhelmed. 

Anthony hissed lowly, almost menacingly. Aziraphale felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of it. He watched Anthony stalk into the room when something amazing happened. Where before, the plants in the flower beds pooled onto the floor, Aziraphale saw many shake and then curl upward back into their beds, shrinking themselves into something smaller. 

As Anthony hissed Aziraphgale watched the vines clinging to the walls and the ceiling slowly creep back inward back towards the floor as well. The sprouts peeking through the tiles shrink as well until they were completely gone. 

What was once a jungle was now a slightly overgrown room.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, seeing how quickly the state of the room had transformed from an actual jungle to a mildly disheveled conservatory.

Anthony hissed, looking quite pleased with himself. 

It didn’t take that much time after that to get the room back in order. Aziraphale swept the dirt off of the ground. Truthfully Aziraphale didn’t have to do too much work. Within a short amount of time and an incredible amount of threatening noises, Anthony had organized all of the overgrown plants into neat rows.

The ivy had disappeared from the ceiling and crawled back outside where it belonged. The windows that were weathered and broken with age came back to life, and were now clear and letting in the brightness of the sun. Even the air inside of the room had cleared. Where it was once musty with disuse and old dirt, the air in the room now smelled much more fresh, and less overpowering. 

“Well, I suppose we’re done here,” Aziraphale said, looking around the room.

Anthony hissed in response, nosing around the plant beds.

“Getting any new planting ideas?” Aziraphale guessed.

Anthony turned back towards him and started nodding enthusiastically before going back to yelling at the plants.

“I’m going to get started on lunch,” Aziraphale said as he gathered his things. “I'll just leave you to that then,”

For the next few weeks Aziraphale cleaned the rest of the rooms on the second floor while Anthonthony helped, occasionally taking breaks to terrorize the plants in the conservatory and the garden. Aziraphale went back to his usual routine of tending to the garden early in the mornings before spending the rest of the day cleaning. 

Aziraphale began harvesting his crops when the weather slowly began to cool. After harvesting his cucumber plants, he harvested his sweet potatoes and then cantaloupe afterwards. He enjoyed eating a fresh bowl of cut up cantaloupe a few days later while he lost miserably to Anthony at chess. 

As more time passed, Aziraphale was running out of rooms to clean in the manor, with nothing to show for it. As he cleaned out one of the last bedrooms on the upper floor, searching desperately for something out of place, a cold feeling had begun to form. What if he was wrong about there being a hidden secret to the house? Maybe there was nothing actually tethering the spell together? 

Aziraphale went to bed one night after cleaning the last room from the second floor, nearly sick to his stomach. There was only one more part of the manor that had remained untouched. The next morning he woke early, Anthony still sound asleep beside him. He skipped breakfast and tending to the garden, too nervous to eat and trusting Anthony to look after his crops in his stead.

He tied on his cleaning apron and gathered his supplies. Quietly, he ventured upstairs, following the long wandering hallway to it’s very end. Tucked away, near a smaller servant's quarters Aziraphale had cleaned the other day, was a small wooden door.

Aziraphale opened the door to reveal a dusty narrow staircase. His heart was thundering in his chest as he climbed up the stairs. This was his last chance to find whatever magic was keeping them trapped here.

Aziraphale climbed the staircase apprehensively. The weak light shining in from the open door to the hallway made the stairway look dark and foreboding. The ancient wood creaked beneath his feet as he climbed up. 

Finally he reached the end of the steep staircase. The sight of the room before him made his heart sink down to his stomach. The room was almost entirely bare. Besides a faded red colored carpet thrown onto the floor, some battered old curtains, and one small chest at the other side of the room, the room was nearly entirely bare.

Aziraphale felt his heart quicken with anxiety at the sight of the room. He placed his cleaning supplies to the floor and tentatively approached the chest on the other side of the room. If his theory had any hope of being correct, then that was the very last place in all of the manor it could be.

The chest was a small thing, made of a dark sturdy wood. There were two silver buckles clasped downwards and an empty clasp where a padlock could be held. Aziraphale thanked his lucky stars it wasn’t locked.

He carefully kneeled down in front of the chest, hovering his hands over the clasps. Carefully he opened the first clasps, struggling a bit at the old metal clamped tightly together. With some effort he unlocked the first clasp, the metal making a satisfying clicking sound as it detached. He did the same with the other until both sides were loose.

Swallowing heavily, Aziraphale took a deep breath to steady himself before opening the lid. Despite the modest size of the chest, the inside was completely empty, save for a small parcel at the bottom. The parcel was long wrapped in white cloth tied with a plain brown twine.

Carefully, Aziraphale reached into the chest and pulled out the parcel, the cloth feeling soft in his hands. He pulled the bundle close to his chest with one hand as he carefully closed the chest with his other. The package felt surprisingly light in his hands, as though there was nothing in it at all. 

Eagerly, he carefully unwound the string tying the parcel together. The cloth opened revealing two beautiful long feathers hidden inside. One a pristine white, and one a gorgeous jet black. Aziraphale took the black feather in hand carefully, bringing it closely to his face for careful inspection. 

The feather was a curious thing, long, smooth, and surprisingly large. Judging by the size, whichever creature it belonged to certainly boasted quite the wingspan. Very carefully, Aziraphale ran a finger through the feather, the texture glossy and smooth on his fingertip. 

“Remarkable,” he breathed, almost transfixed by the smooth texture on his skin.

He placed the black feather back into the cloth and then picked up the white one. The texture was almost softer than the black one, nearly as long, although it looked just a bit wider. Despite the weak light shining from the doorway, and the small clouded mirror at the opposite end of the room, the white feather seemed to shine in the light. 

Aziraphale looked at the two feathers held carefully in his hands, feeling a large smile break out on his face. This had to be it! These had to be the source of magic in the house!

Aziraphale placed the white feather back into the cloth and carefully tied the parcel back together. He held the bundle close to his chest and bounded down the stairs nearly two at a time. He couldn’t wait to tell Anthony! After all of those weeks of carefully cleaning and searching, he finally did it! He finally found the key to breaking the spell! 

Aziraphale went down the staircase. He went back to the second floor and bound down the hallway in long strides. He bounded down the staircase leading to the first floor. He raced to the kitchen and burst outside into the garden. 

Anthony was bent down hissing menacingly at his corn stalks, now nearly ripe.

“Anthony!” he called out eagerly.

Anthony stopped mid hiss and straightened, craning his long upper body Aziraphsale’s way. 

Aziraphale hurried over to Anthony’s side, short of breath from his trip. 

“Hang on, just a moment,” he heaved, bending down a bit to catch his breath.

Anthony looked just the bit alarmed.

“Oh I’m fine,” Aziraphale assured him. “Just not much of a runner is all.”

Anthony still looked a bit apprehensive by the time Aziraphale fully caught his breath.

“I finally found it,” Aziraphale said eagerly. “I finally found the thing that’s keeping the magic here together,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony’s attention snapped to the parcel in his hand, he hissed long and slow.

“I know!” Aziraphale said excitedly. “Look at this.” He said, unwrapping the parcel again.

He took out the white feather lands and held it closely to Anthony to inspect. “This has to be it, looks pretty important doesn’t it?” he said. 

Anthony looked at the feather for a long time, almost frozen. Aziraphale was beginning to worry after he didn’t respond.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

Anthony didn’t make a sound. He closed his eyes as if he was tired, and slumped onto the floor. Aziraphale watched him, bewildered as he turned and slithered into the garden.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” he yelled. He chased after him, careful to keep the parcel close to his chest safely. 

Anthony ignored him and moved deeper into the brush of the garden. Aziraphale struggled to keep up, but Anthony was surprisingly quick when he wanted to be. A few turns and brush of foliage, and Aziraphale quickly lost sight of him.

Aziraphale sighed in frustration, his heart beating not from exertion so much as anxiety. 

“Well then” he muttered to himself. 

With a heavy heart, Aziraphale turned back inside, knowing Anthony couldn’t be found if he didn’t want to be. Despite all of Aziraphale wandering around the garden, Anthony knew the grounds much better than he did. 

Aziraphale entered the kitchen again, placing the parcel down onto the table and slumping into the nearest seat. 

“I suppose you aren’t what I’m looking for then, are you?” he asked, looking down at the parcel sadly.

He puttered around the house for the next hour or so, attempting to cook dinner, pulling out the ingredients out of the pantry, but then giving up halfway with a huff, too nervous to concentrate on anything.

He made himself a simple sandwich with some leftover meat and cheese instead, eating half of it and saving the other half for later. Aziraphale felt like he would crawl out of his skin with nerves by the time the sunlight outside turned a warm golden color of the beginnings of sunset. 

Just when he thought he should give up the ghost and wander the garden and look for Anthony, he heard a soft shuffling noise coming from the kitchen doorway. He felt his head whip around to see Anthony crawling back inside the room. 

Aziraphale almost stood up anxiously to greet him, but stopped himself at the last moment. Instead, he fiddled with his hands. 

“I’m so sorry,” he couldn’t help but blurt out. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but I promise I’ll fix it,” he said, breathlessly.

Anthony looked up at him with his big golden eyes and just shook his head, quickly moving over to Aziraphale. Anthony stretched his long upper body to make himself properly eye level with Aziraphale.

Slowly, carefully, Anthony rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale froze in shock. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the cool rough scales of Anthony’s body.

“So, I suppose you’re not upset anymore?” Aziraphale said.

Anthony hissed an affirmative sound close to his ear, causing a strange chill to run down Aziraphale’s spine.

“Well, that is certainly a relief,” Aziraphale laughed.

Anthony leaned away and settled back down onto the floor. 

“Why don’t we talk more later tonight,” Aziraphale suggested.

Anthony nodded solemnly.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Aziraphale said, leaning down a bit to pat Anthony on his head. “We’ll talk through it later.”

Aziraphale lounged around the house for the rest of the night, only going to bed when the sunlight truly began to become too weak to see, too wired from his discovery before. He bathed and dressed for bed, taking the parcel of feathers with him from the kitchen and placing them on the bedside counter. 

He settled under the covers and closed his eyes. The impenetrable dark of the room once menacing just a few months before was now a familiar and comforting sight. He left the darkness soothe him and fell asleep.

***  
Aziraphale awoke as always to Anthony climbing into bed. He sat up quickly, suddenly feeling wide awake.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly.

“I am now, I think.” Anthony sighed, as he moved the covers around.

Aziraphale carefully took Anthony’s hand in his. It was warm and comforting. Anthony squeezed his own in response. 

“Talk to me,” Aziraphale said.

“When I was put here,” Anthony started carefully. “I couldn’t really take anything with me, it all happened so fast.”

“But,” Aziraphale said, coaxing Anthony to continue.

“I couldn’t take anything with me, except those feathers,” Anthony finished. “I had them on me at the time, so, that was the only thing I could really bring.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said, with great empathy. It’s not like he was able to bring anything with him when he became trapped here besides the clothes on his back, not that he’d know if he had any prior possessions.

“Wait a moment,” Aziraphale said, a sudden thought coming over him. “What about your statue?” he asked. “You said your friend made that for you.”

“He did,” Anthony said. “But I left it behind, obviously. That one’s a re-creation.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said.

“Everything that’s in this house I miracled, except for the feathers.”

“They’re beautiful,” Aziraphale said. “I can see why they're so precious to you. The animal they belonged to must have been magnificent.”

“Yes,” Anthony said, but to Aziraphale’s ears he sounded a bit uncomfortable as he said it.

“Well, I suppose my theory was wrong then,” Aziraphale continued, changing the subject. Now it was his turn to sound dejected. 

“Maybe not,” Anthony said comfortingly. 

“I’ve been up and down this entire house Anthony,” Aziraphale disagreed. “I haven’t found anything. It doesn’t exist, there’s nothing else for it.” 

“I’m sorry Angel,” 

“”Yes well, we’ll just have to think of something else,” Aziraphale sighed. “We’ll get out of here somehow, we have to.”

Anthony squeezed his hand comfortingly. “We’ll get through this,” he promised. 

“I hope that we do,” Aziraphale said.”

They went to bed early that night, although Aziraphale found himself tossing and turning due to the sour sense of defeat that stuck to his stomach. Anthony shuffled close to him, sharing his warmth and finally settling Aziraphale’s unease. He found himself falling asleep soon after that, soothed by Anthony so close to his side.

***  
The rest of summer was rough for Aziraphale. He continued to tend to his garden. With all of the cleaning and restorations done around the house, after months of busy work Aziraphale suddenly found himself with more free time than he knew what to do with. 

His mind couldn’t help but go back to his personal defeat. He was sure sure there was something keeping the magic here afloat, but that’s what Aziraphale got for believing in fairy tales and wishful thinking.

Anthoy hissed anxiously by his side from where Aziraphale had started to harvest his sweet potato crop. 

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale said, mustering up a weak smile for his sake. 

Anthony looked doubtful, but didn’t say anything more. Aziraphale spent the following weeks harvesting the rest of his crops and cooking in the kitchen, trying to get his mind off of his massive failure.

After harvesting the sweet potatoes, Aziraphale went to work on the corn. He stored the food in the pantry, happy that none of it would spoil due to Anthony’s magic. A few days after that, the cantaloupe was finally ready for harvest.

Despite Aziraphale’s despondent mood, the thought of eating some cantaloupe was ready caused him to perk up a bit. Anthony and he kneeled in his garden as Aziraphale cut one cantaloupe off the vine and shook it carefully under Anthony’s careful inspection.

“Do you think it’s ripe enough?” he wondered, not able to discern the ‘sound of ripeness’ Anthony had described to him the other day for himself.

Anthony tilted his head carefully, listening to the sound before nodding enthusiastically.

Aziraphale kept one melon on the kitchen counter while storing the rest in the pantry. The pantry was beginning to look delightfully full from the spoils of now two harvests. 

“At least we won’t run out of food,” Aziraphale mused, before shutting the door.

He and Anthony ate large cuts of melon for dessert after supper that evening in the sun room as they watched the sun set beautiful arrays of warm orange and yellow over the horizon. 

Summer days moved on as Aziraphale harvested the rest of his garden and tried to give himself a new schedule. Anthony and he spent many more days by the pool and lounging around the house, but Aziraphale felt himself having more and more moments of frustration as he occupied his time with activities that didn’t lead to their escape. 

Anthony seemed to sense his mounting frustration and did his best to soothe him, offering to play games he knew Aziraphale favored, and even letting him win every now and again if Aziraphale’s sudden streak of luck at cards was anything to go by.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Aziraphale said as he climbed into bed with Anthony that night.

“Do what?” Anthony asked.

“Let me win at cards, you know how terrible I am at poker,” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Anthony deflected.

“Of course not,” Azirasphale said. “But if you did, it was kind of you so thank you.” 

Anthony hummed in response, but said nothing more. The next day he looked decidedly more cheerful than usual and that afternoon Aziraphale won a few more rounds of backgammon than he usually did.

Still, time went on. Before Aziraphale knew it, the end of summer had come. The air had cooled considerably, but it was still pleasantly warm, just not as glaringly hot as before. His garden was fully harvested and the soil had been turned over by a few days worth of Aziraphale’s efforts and a little bit of Anthony’s magic. 

Aziraphale felt a keen sense of emptiness looking at the barren fields. He felt like time was quickly getting away from him. All of that work all summer and nothing to show for it. What was the point of turning over the manor from top to bottom if it didn’t help undo the curse they had been placed under?

“Top to bottom indeed?” Aziraphale muttered to himself, thinking back to all of the rooms he cleaned meticulously, the cellar, the dining room, all of those rooms on the second floor. The only thing he didn’t have to clean much was the attic, and it had been in good shape more or less already. 

He’d even scoured the grounds at one point, although Anthony was more familiar with the grounds than the house, even the wilder parts due to all of his gardening. The only place Aziraphale hadn’t looked was the roof. 

Aziraphale’s thoughts came to a halt. He brought his hand to his mouth, chewing his nails nervously. A terrible habit, but not one he could seem to break under the pressing circumstances. 

It was a terrible idea. Surely, Anthony would agree if he knew what Aziraphale was thinking. Aziraphale turned away from his garden plot and looked behind him back towards the house. Parts of the roof sloped steeply, purely inaccessible from a glance. But other areas looked flat enough. It seemed doable. 

“This is a terrible idea,” he muttered to himself. But what choice did he have? He had to break Anthony's curse, he just had to.

Aziraphale went back inside the house, leaving Anthony to romp around the garden while his heart pounded in his chest. He went up to the second floor and back towards the attic. He remembered seeing what he thought was a window at the time. After climbing up the stairs and going over to it, giving it a more careful look, it also doubled as a port of entry to the roof.

Aziraphale opened the hatch, giving it a good shove to open the window out towards the outside, letting the fresh air into the room. Aziraphale put his upper body through the window and peered around. The roof was slanted, but not so much where Aziraphale couldn’t climb out. Aziraphale gulped heavily before steeling himself. He climbed out of the window and onto the roof. 

The wind was stronger up on the roof. From his vantage point he could see the entire front of the house, and the towering gate Aziraphale had entered through all of those months ago was but a small structure in the distance.

“At least the roses are coming along,” he said to himself, looking down at the bushes he had worked so hard on. Even though they were small little shrubs from this distance, Aziraphale could see that the rose bushes had grown more fuller and vibrant in the passing weeks and months.

Aziraphale shook his head. Now was not the time to be admiring the grounds. He had a job to do. Aziraphale carefully climbed the incline towards the apex of the roof. He climbed on all fours in order to steady himself, careful not to look down and break his concentration. 

Eventually, he reached the top, scrambling to grab the narrow edge of the peak with his hands and hoisting himself upwards before straddling the top. From his position up, he could see the entire roof of the house. There were other slopes in the roof like the one he was sitting on, including the handful of spires that rose high into the sky above the rounded parts of the roof.

“Here goes nothing,” Aziraphale said to himself. 

Carefully, Aziraphale shimmied down the other side of the sloped roof and towards the nearest spiral. The further he got away from his safe little corner of the roof, the harder and harder it became to keep his footing. He felt silly, shuffling along on his hands and knees in order to keep his balance steady. The tiles beneath his hands were rough and a little warm from the heat of the sun. 

By the time Aziraphale had made it to the base of the spiral, he was sweating with anxiety and trembling in fear. He couldn't help but glance to the side and downwards where the garden awaited below. It looked so far away from where he stood, or rather crawled. 

He set his sights back to the spiralling tower in front of him. The metal rod of the top of the tower glinted in the sun. Aziraphale looked up at it apprehensively, straining his eyes to see anything of note. He would try to climb it but well, he didn’t really want to climb it if he could help it. 

Aziraphale slowly circled the base of the tower, keeping his hands on the stone in the base to keep his balance. He held his breath when he crept towards the very edge of the roof where tile fell away to open air. He could scarcely breath until he had stepped away from it and back onto the smoother tiling.

“Nothing here,” he said, gazing up at the spiral and seeing nothing out of the ordinary. 

He looked into the distance to the next spiral tower and sighed heavily. Carefully, he shuffled on over to it on his hands and knees. It was a slow trek to the other tower. The roof was even steeper at this point. After long tense moments of moving, he made it. He sighed with relief. The sooner he inspected the roof, the sooner he could go back inside. Aziraphale stood up again and was just about to shuffle around it when he felt his heart lurch in his chest.

It all happened very quickly. One moment the roof tiling beneath his feet was steady, the next it was not. He felt one large tile shift loose underneath his foot. He scrambled frantically with his hands, scraping at the base of the stone tower in front of him, but there was nothing that he could grasp with his hands but smooth stone. He felt his weight lurch backwards and suddenly he was careening backwards over the edge of the roof. 

As quickly as it all happened, it stopped. He felt himself freeze, suspended in air. He blinked rapidly trying to make sense of what was happening to him. He felt his body straighten and then slowly lower over the side of the roof and back towards the garden below. He couldn’t move his body, but his descent was slow and gentle. Eventually, he felt his feet hit the soft earth below and whatever force came over him vanished, granting Aziraphale control once more.

Aziraphale looked around in shock. He was back near his vegetable garden. He heard an angry low hissing noise from behind him that sent a cold chill down his spine. 

“A-anthony?” he said nervously, turning around.

Anthony’s upper body was fully upright. His serpine face looked thunderous with anger. Aziraphale put up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Umm, well you see,” he stammered, not knowing what to do with the weight of anger from a ten foot tall and counting angry serpent. 

Anthony hissed angrily again, more high pitched and frantic this time. He circled Aziraphale like a predator circling its prey. 

“Alright, I know I shouldn’t have done that,” Aziraphale said. “I just thought, well I just thought. Well you know what I thought!” Aziraphale said, throwing his hands into the air. “We have to break your curse somehow!” 

Anthony shook his head wildly, hissing in displeasure. 

“I know, I know,” Aziraphjale moaned, burying his face into his hands. “I just got a little desperate I think. I don’t like seeing you suffer.”

Anthony calmed a bit at his admission. 

“I won’t do it again,” Aziraphale vowed. “No more climbing the roof, I don’t think there's anything useful up there anyway.” he mumbled.

Anthony shot him one more careful look before wilting, all of the fight leaving his body. Aziraphale patted his head in apology. That night when Anthony had his voice back, he gave Aziraphale the third degree.

“I can’t believe you did that.” he hissed with displeasure. “Nearly throwing yourself off of the roof, trying to get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t jump off of the roof Anthony,” Aziraphale protested. 

“You might as well have,” Anthony shot back. “Of all of the foolish things you’ve done Angel, this by far is one of the most foolish.”

“One of?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Don’t get me started,” Anthony groaned. “Once you remember again, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“If you say so,” Aziraphale mumbled, wringing the covers in his hands.

“Just be more careful Angel,” Anthony sighed. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale promised. “I’ll try.”

Aziraphale remained true to his word for the remainder of summer. As the days slowly got progressively shorter and the long hot afternoons faded in length, Aziraphale was careful not to pull more dangerous stunts. He began to plan out his autumn garden while thinking of other ways to break the curse. Ways that didn’t involve him falling and breaking his neck.

No matter how much he thought, he couldn’t come up with another theory to run on. Something that frustrated him greatly. 

“You don’t have to solve it all in a day,” Anthony pointed out one night. “It’s not like I have any ideas either, and I’ve been stuck here for longer than you.”

“I know, I know,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Anthony said. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

“I wish I could be as calm about this as you.”

“I had a little more time to adjust,” Anthony said. “Sometimes bad things just happen, and there isn’t much anyone can do about it.”

“But we can do something,” Aziraphale protested.

“I know,” Anthony agreed. “And we’re lucky we can, we just need time. And we have plenty of that.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” Aziraphale conceded.

Time moved on quickly after that. Azirpahale decided the layout of his autumn garden, the last one before winter. He decided on carrots, broccoli, brussel sprouts, turnips and pumpkins. A few more weeks had passed and before he knew it, autumn had arrived.

Anthony was busy preparing his garden for the upcoming cooler months while Aziraphale plotted out and planted the seeds to his garden. The trees had not yet turned colors yet, but Anthony assured him they would soon enough when the temperature dropped. Aziraphale watched the sunset one evening after a long day planting the rest of his seeds in the garden. In the next few months time, they would be ready for harvest.

Time was moving on, faster than Aziraphale thought it would. As he watched the sun fade and the shadows grow, he couldn’t help but shake a sinking feeling of unease. There was something about shadows steadily rising in their little corner of the world that filled him with a deep sense of dread.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done, I hope you all like it! Plot things are finally happening, sorry it took so long lol. I'm going to try to publish the next chapter in 2 weeks or so as always so stay tuned. Stay safe out there! Let me know what you guys think!


	16. Chapter 16

Aziraphale knew it was well and truly Autumn when he woke up cold in bed, a few weeks later. Anthony was still snoozing beside him. The air where they had cuddled together grew cold. Aziraphale blearily sat up, and rubbed his eyes. 

Aziraphale went to his closet and put on some brown corduroy trousers and a long sleeve white shirt. It looked like his loose pants and short sleeved linen shirt wouldn’t cut it any more. It wasn’t chilly enough for a jumper, but he supposed it would be soon enough. He looked to the side and back towards Anthony, who was still huddled in bed. 

Aziraphale smiled at the sight of him, all cozy underneath the covers, with only his head peeking out on the pillow. Aziraphale told himself to throw an extra blanket over the bed that night. He knew Anthony’s cold blood would begin to bother his sleep with the turning weather. 

He spent a long morning in the garden, after a small breakfast of toast and tea. The cooler weather certainly made it much easier to tend to his crops without sweating up a storm. Anthony met him later for lunch, and they spent the rest of the evening pleasantly together.

The next few days passed more or less the same. After Aziraphale’s little stunt with the roof, he wasn’t trying to rush into finding any solutions for breaking the spell over the manor. He was trying to do what Anthony suggested and try not to come to any conclusions all at once. 

As days grew on, Aziraphale wore longer sleeved shirts around the manor. He knew Anthony was affected as well, judging by the longer naps he took and his glaring at the sky on overcast days.

“Don’t care much for the cooler weather?” Aziraphale said, as they lounged by the pool. Anthony had warmed up the water to change for the accounting weather, but soon enough the pool will be closed for the season.

Anthony hissed disdainfully.

“It is a bit chilly now,” Aziraphale said, still damp from the water. “I can’t imagine how you’ll fare when the weather turns even more."

Anthony huffed and curled back down onto the pavement, soaking in the little ray of light he managed to scout through the rolling clouds. Another hour later Aziraphale called it a day, even though it was still mid-afternoon. The weather wasn’t getting any warmer. Unless there was a rare warm day on the horizon, it looked like today was one of the last few days they'd spend by the pool for some time.

‘If we’re still trapped here that is,’ Aziraphale privately thought to himself, while his eyes skimmed over his book. He found he no longer had the concentration for it. 

“Time to head in then?” he asked, when he saw Anthony shift a few times, trying to get comfortable.

Anthony glanced over at Aziraphale and nodded in agreement. Aziraphale gathered his towel in one arm and his book in the other. Anthony led the way back into the house, eager to be back inside. Aziraphale thought they might start a low fire in the sitting room, maybe he could pull out some blankets out of the cupboard for Anthony to curl up in. 

As he mused over their plans for the evening, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He turned back towards the rose bushes that Anthony had so lovingly tended to where he thought he saw some form of movement. 

Aziraphale stopped in place for long enough to catch Anthony’s attention. He hissed out a short question.

“Oh, nothing,” Aziraphale said, suddenly embarrassed. “I thought I saw an animal fly by or something. Now, what should we eat for dinner?” he asked, turning back towards the house and walking into the kitchen after Anthony.

Days passed by and Aziraphale went about a new more relaxing routine than the one he took over summer. He worked in the garden in the morning and wandered the gardens with Anthony. They spent long afternoons in the sunroom playing games together, and enjoying each other’s company.

Aziraphale went back to taking more time to experimenting with cooking in the kitchen. It was good to have a new project to work on every day to break up the routine. Aziraphale searched through a few cook books and magazines he found in the library. 

He tried baking his own bread with garlic, cheese, and some herbs from his garden. It came out okay. Aziraphale thought he might have kneaded the dough too much, but it was a start. After he and Anthony polished off the bread, Aziraphale made lemon cookies, and then lemon bars, although he found making the crust to be a bit challenging. It took a few times for him to get it down.

He tried making blueberry muffins with bits of white chocolate, which came out better than he thought they would, even the first time around, He experimented for dinner too. He tried making his own beef stroganoff, which was good, but the sauce was a little congealed. He figured he would try cooking it on a lower heat the next time round. 

He made a seafood rice dish from scratch, which was faster to cook than he thought, and blueberry pancakes one night when he had the craving for breakfast foods, even though it was supper time. The more he created, the more it took his mind off his anxieties and past failures. 

Anthony ate what he could, but Aziraphale got the feeling he didn’t need to eat as much as he did to get through the day, unless there was a sudden infestation of mice in the garden filling his belly, which Aziraphale shuddered to think of.

One night, while Aziraphale waited for a large pot of water to boil for the homemade gnocchi he had made with fried butter garlic and parmesan, Aziraphale realized he had forgotten one important part for the evening.

“The wine,” he said to himself while quickly rinsing his hands in the sink to get off the particularly clingy bits of dough. “How could I forget the wine?” he muttered under his breath. 

He turned the stove on low just in case and quickly went out the backdoor. He walked briskly through the garden, glancing at the brush. He couldn’t see Anthony. He figured he must have been deep on the other side of the garden yelling at the plants.

Aziraphale walked carefully down the stone steps and opened the heavy door to the cellar. It was as dark as ever inside without any lights, he had to rely on the natural lighting coming in from outside. 

Aziraphale left the door to the cellar open to help light up the room and started browsing the shelves. Anthony had restored a lot of the labels on the bottles after Aziraphale had finished dusting the cellar, making them easy for Aziraphale to read.

He took a bottle off of it’s place on the shelf while muttering to himself.

“No, not you,” he mumbled, placing a nice expensive red wine back in its place.

A nice dry white wine would go splendidly with what he was preparing tonight. 

“Where were the whites again?” Aziraphale asked himself, regretting not organizing and arranging the cellar himself once he had finished cleaning it. He was beginning to think he relied on Anthony far too much when it came to picking out what alcohol they would drink. 

He wandered over to the other side of the cellar, examining the rows of bottles there as well when he felt a cold chill run down his spine. Aziraphale straightened up quickly. All of his senses were ringing with alarm. He glanced around the room wildly, but found nothing out of place. 

“Silly,” he said to himself.

He looked around one more time carefully before looking back towards the rack of wine bottles. There had to be a decent wine somewhere in there. He picked up another bottle and had just finished glancing over the label, a good vintage and a good year, it would work perfectly for what Aziraphale had cooked for dinner, when he heard the cellar door slam shut.

Aziraphale froze, the room suddenly going dark. His heart raced in his chest. He held the bottle of wine close to himself. 

“Anthony?” he called out. “Are you out there?” he said, nervously.

There wasn’t any answer to his question except for an eerie silence. Aziraphale walked to the other side of the room slowly, holding his free hand out in front of him to feel around the room. In the pitch black darkness all he could feel was the empty air and the creeping notion that he was being watched. 

Aziraphale’s heart raced as he slowly felt his way towards the door. It felt like there were shadows creeping everywhere around him, watching him. It took an age, but finally he felt the door handle to the cellar door. He yanked it towards him, but it wouldn’t budge.

“What?” He said to himself in alarm. 

He yanked a few more times before the door finally gave and opened to the light outside. Aziraphale raced up the steps to the cellar, through the back of the garden, and back into the kitchen. His heart raced when he finally made it inside. He placed the bottle of wine on the table to free up his shaking hands.

He took a few deep calming breaths to get his heart to slow. Aziraphale had never had trouble opening that door before. 

“Maybe it got stuck?” he wondered to himself.

Aziraphale was broken out of his musing when Anthony came in from the garden. He looked at Aziraphale curiously, and then with a bit more worry when he saw the strained look on his face.

“Cellar door stuck,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the wine bottle he retrieved on the table. 

Anthony looked over him anxiously.

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale breathed. “Just gave me a scare is all. I think the wind closed it shut.” 

Anthony nodded in understanding. Aziraphale spent the rest of the time he spent cooking dinner trying to cast the experience out of his mind. It was just the wind. It blew and closed the door shut, causing it to jam. Aziraphale was just being paranoid. There was just something about being in a basement or cellar alone in a dimly lit room that frightened people.

It took some time, but by the time dinner was fully cooked and enjoyed, Aziraphale had more or less calmed himself down and put the experience out of his mind. The next few days rolled by peacefully. Aziraphale watered his garden and worked through some recipes in his cookbook, getting more and more confident in his cooking the more time he spent in the kitchen. 

He went through some more housekeeping magazines one evening that he had unearthed, trying to get some ideas of how to remodel the billiard room. He and Anthony had tried playing a game one evening out of sheer boredom, wanting to try something new. As he thought Anthony was incredible at the game, while Aziraphale was lucky to knock even a few of his cue balls in to score points. 

“I’m thinking of a lighter color for the paneling.” Aziraphale said to Anthony later that day while they sat in the living room together, listening to another one of Edith Piaf’s records. “Anything other than all of those distasteful dark colors, what do you think?” he asked.

Anthony hissed in agreement, curled up by Aziraphale's side from where they sat in the lounge. It didn’t do Aziraphale’s back any favors in the long run, but he was happy enough to ignore it to have Anthony by his side. 

“I’m not sure what to do with all of the art work though,” Aziraphale said with a frown. Maybe something that would compliment it? Or maybe we could put the pictures somewhere else?”

Anthony shrugged lazily, placing his head in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale patted his head tenderly, before flipping through the pages again. One page boasted rooms with intricate white molding and golden chandeliers, although that was more for entryways and living rooms than a billiard room.

Still, Aziraphale kept some of the ideas in mind as he flipped through the magazine and peered over some of the more interesting articles about room layout. He kept it in mind for the next day while he stood in the middle of the billiard room with Anthony by his side. 

“I’m thinking the color of the walls should be changed first,” he said finally. “That’ll change the whole flow of the room.” he said quoting a line in the housekeeping magazine the day before.

Anthony hissed in agreement. 

“Can you try making it into this color?” he asked, pointing to the pristine white of the living room picture drawn into the magazine.

Anthony nodded and then looked at the walls carefully in concentration. Aziraphale watched the dark brown of the wooden walls meld and shift before his eyes. Soon the walls were a pristine white wood with beautiful floral molding along the sides that shone in the light. 

“Perfect,” he said, and smiled. “Now, let’s move these pieces to the study.” he said, nodding to the Greek artwork. “They’ll work much better there than in here, once everything is done.” 

Anthony floated the picture frames down the hall with Aziraphale and stuck them to the walls of the study. Aziraphale nodded in satisfaction before turning back to Anthony. “That’s enough magic for today, let’s do some more tomorrow.” 

Anthony hissed in protest, but changed his tune when seeing Aziraphale’s stern expression. He wilted sheepishly. The next day, after some garden work and a big breakfast of french toast and fresh fruit, they set out to work on the billiard room again. 

He decided to keep the ceiling lamps, although Anthony worked his magic to make the shades a lighter metallic color from their previous velvet red. The bearskin rug at the fireplace was the next thing to go. Aziraphale waffled where to put it, not keen on having it be an eyesore in any of the rooms he had restored, before Anthony made the final decision to just vanish it entirely. 

“Anthony, that was a perfectly good um, rug,” he scolded him.

Anthony must have heard his halfhearted tone and tilted his head in response. With the bear skin rug gone, Aziraphale could turn his attention to the fireplace. The stone was already clean and restored, but Anthony shifted the dark red and brown color of the brick to a more light brown color.

Aziraphale tapped his chin while looking at the rusty twin sabers crossed above the fireplace. 

“What do you reckon we should do with those?” he asked Anthony.

Anthony looked at them for a moment, before turning back to Aziraphale with a keen look in his eyes. 

“Yes well, fine, I suppose they can stay,” Aziraphale agreed. “Can’t say I care much for swords,” he muttered to himself.

For some reason Anthony looked highly amused after Aziraphale said that. He hissed out a short low sound, which Aziraphale guessed his version of a chuckle.

“Well, they are dangerous you know,” Aziraphale said. “Best to keep them bolted up there,” 

After the fireplace and wall paneling was to Aziraphale’s liking, Anthony shifted the carpet into the design that Aziraphale had looked over. It was a beautiful pattern with a light cream background. It had light blue and silver floral and crescent moon designs, with flowering ivy like borders curled around the corners. 

The magazine boasted several designs, most uniquely Persian. Aziraphale liked them right away. The room came alive after Anthony used his magic to put the carpet down. It went well with the color of the walls and the light streaming into the room.

“Oh, that’s much better already,” Aziraphale sighed with relief. 

Anthony hissed happily in agreement. They finished the rest of the room the following day. Soon enough, the dark wood billiard room was a thing of the past. The room now felt more open and free with the soft light colors and a distinct lack of dead animal decor.

“Much better,” Aziraphale sighed when all of the work was done.

Anthony hissed enthusiastically in agreement. 

“If we ever get company over when all of this is over, I won’t be embarrassed to show them the room.” Aziraphale smiled.

Anthony looked up at him with a start.

“What?” Aziraphale asked. “Do you think it’s still too much?” he asked.

Anthony shook his head. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale said slowly. “Well what should we have for dinner?” he asked to change the subject, keeping a careful eye on Anthony for any more outbursts.

Anthony seemed to calm at the idea of dinner, and soon they left the newly refurbished billiard room for the kitchen. It was only when Aziraphale woke up in the middle of the night when Anthony settled into bed did everything become clear.

“So you’d like to entertain then?” Anthony asked.

“Well, yes. Ideally. When we can get out of the house that is,” Aziraphale said.

“I see,” Anthony said.

“Is everything alright?” Aziraphale asked.

“You’d like to stay here then?”

“Well not for a while, once we can leave that is,” Aziraphale said. “Honestly I’d like to do some traveling, meet some people when everything is all said and done.”

Anthony was silent afterwards, but it wasn’t a comfortable one.

“Will you tell me what’s on your mind?” Aziraphale asked. “You seem awfully down dear.”

“You want to see other people?” Anthony asked, almost a bit sadly.

“Well it would be nice to go out on the town, maybe enjoy a restaurant or two.” Aziraphale answered. “See something other than the inside of the house and the grounds for a change.”

Anthony was silent again, and it was beginning to make Aziraphale worry. 

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, reaching for Anthony’s hand.

“I’m being silly,” Anthony said finally, after a few more moments of silence. “I don’t want to be trapped here anymore either, but-it’s just,” he trailed off.

“Just what?” Aziraphale probed, when Anthony was quiet for a beat too long.

“It’s just, well I’m worried about what comes after. After we break the spell that is.” Anthony explained. 

“You are?” Aziraphale asked incredulously. “Why?”

“Well, you might not want to stick around,” he mumbled.

“Well of course not,” Aziraphale snorted. “I imagine you wouldn’t either being stuck here for so long. Isn’t there anywhere you’d like to go?”

Anthony sighed deeply, he took his hand out of Aziraphale’s own and Aziraphale felt its lost keenly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I meant you might not want to stay with me,” he mumbled the last part quietly, so quietly that Aziraphale had to strain his ears to hear it. 

“Oh Anthony,” Aziraphale breathed, suddenly understanding Anthony’s hesitation. “Who else would I rather be with?” 

Aziraphale heard Anthony inhale sharply at his admission. 

“You might want to go elsewhere. When you get your memories back.” Anthony pointed out.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale hummed. “No, I don’t think so. Besides, when I get my memory back, I reckon I’ll have even more reasons to spend my time with you.” he said.

Anthony huffed out a laugh. Aziraphale felt his head rest on his shoulder. Aziraphale patted his back comfortingly, as he quietly pretended not to hear Anthony sniffle back some tears. 

“Where would you like to go, when all of this is over?” he asked, when Anthony calmed himself down.

“Anywhere,” Anthony said immediately. “Anywhere as long as it’s with you Angel.” Aziraphale flushed deeply at his words.

Aziraphale could still hear them ringing in his ears when he went to sleep that night, and when he busied himself with his work in the garden the next day. Anthony seemed pleased with himself, judging by how he eagerly traipsed around the garden, slithering up to close to Aziraphale at times to inspect his work on his little garden, before going off to take care of his own plants.

Aziraphale had nearly completely finished tending to his garden when Anthony came up, his eyes bright and excited. 

“What is it?” he asked, wiping his hands free of loose dirt and rising off of his knees.

Anthony hissed eagerly and beckoned Aziraphale to follow. 

Aziraphale trailed after Anthony through the garden and led him to the bench near the duck pond. Aziraphale could see the same family of ducks they had been watching together for so long now gliding over the water.

“Oh Anthony, look how much they’ve grown.” Aziraphale cooed.

He and Anthony sat down on the bench together, Anthony materializing a bag of greens between them. Aziraphale eagerly took out a generous handful and scattered the greens into the water. It didn’t take too long for the ducks to notice and swim over to them.

Aziraphale watched them chomp happily on the greens he put out. The ducklings had grown a lot. Their feathers looked longer and fuller, their bodies larger. Odysseus made his way to the greens Aziraphale had put out right away, followed shortly by Violet. The mother, Daphne, watched them carefully before going for her share.

Lily followed shortly after, and behind her trailed Eve. Aziraphale watched them with a smile on his face as Oddeysseus and Violet fought over the clump of food closest to them. Lily and Eve were much better behaved, ducking their beaks into the water and eating peacefully. 

“They’ve grown up so much,” Aziraphale said to Anthony. “They’ll be leaving soon though, won’t they?”

Anthony looked at Aziraphale and nodded solemnly. 

“They’re almost fully grown now,” Aziraphale said nodding to their mature feathers. They resembled their mother now more than their smaller duckling selves, their adolescence nearly fully behind them. 

“You think they’ll be okay?” Aziraphale asked Anthony. “Flying south for winter I mean.”

Anthony huffed and looked at Aziraphale affectionately. He hissed a high pitched sound. 

“Oh I suppose you’re right then,” Aziraphale said. 

Anthony and Aziraphale spent the better part of an hour feeding Daphne and her brood and watching them swim across the pond. The sun turned a bit golden in the sky and shimmered over the water. Azirapahle’s heart ached to see it, but it was a pleasant sort of feeling the same as it was painful. 

“Time goes so fast when you’re not looking,” Aziraphale said finally.

Anthony didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned his weight by Aziraphale’s side. Aziraphale ran his hand through the rough scales of Anthony’s head. They watched the ducks for a little longer as the sun went down, and for the first time in the last few tense weeks, Aziraphale felt content.

***

Aziraphale was kneading dough for his latest batch of bread when he felt it again. A cold chill ran down his spine, and he felt the acute sensation of being watched again. Aziraphale paused from his work, his hands full with sticky dough. 

He kept perfectly still, not daring to look behind him. As calmly as he could, he slowly stepped away from the counter and towards the sink, rinsing his hands. The feeling of being watched didn’t let up as he washed his hands clean, nor when he dried them. 

He kept a careful eye out through the corner of his eye, trying to appear unbothered. By the time he thought he might have mustered the nerve to get up and look, the sensation passed. Aziraphale heaved a heavy side of relief and looked to the other side of the kitchen.

Everything was perfectly normal. The kitchen table was there with its usual white linen tablecloths. Anthony had cut a few of the roses from the bushes that had finally bloomed from the front lawn. The same ones that Aziraphale had so carefully attended to all of those months ago, creating beautiful autumn roses made of warm oranges and reds.

“Silly,” he muttered to himself, feeling both distinctly foolish and relieved. 

Aziraphale went back to his dough. He finished kneading it again before putting it in a bowl with a cover and letting the dough cool in the ice box. Every now and again he’d look over his shoulder. Just in case.

When Anthony came in from the garden to see what Aziraphale was preparing for dinner, Aziraphale thought of telling him. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused. What was he supposed to say? That sometimes he felt like he was being watched? Ridiculous. The only ones here at the manor, for better or worse, it was just him and Anthony. The last several months had been firm proof of that.

Instead, he kept his thought to himself and greeted Anthony. They had a pleasant dinner together before cleaning up and retiring to the living room, and if Aziraphale felt a bit more apprehensive as the sun set, then that was no one's business but his own. 

As usual, Aziraphale retired to bed before Anthony, feeling sleepy from all of the stress earlier. He was about to open the door to the bedroom when he felt it again. Aziraphale froze, his hand over the door knob as a cold chill ran through him. 

He felt the unsettling feeling of a presence directly behind him. His heart beat wildly. His mind raced as he tried to think of what to do. Finally, his panicked brain had him opening the door swiftly, quickly stepping inside and closing it shut firmly behind him. 

He leaned against the door heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was dark without the light from the corridor shining in. Not for the first time, Aziraphale wished there was a window or light of some sort inside. 

He turned around, his hands shaking as he tried to feel around for a lock to keep whatever that thing was out, when a terrible realization came over him. Anthony was still out there too. 

Aziraphale hesitated by the door for a brief moment. He was being silly, none of this was real. He wasn’t being watched. There was no one in the manor besides him and Anthony. Despite his attempts to soothe himself, he hesitated in opening the door. What if there was really something out there and Anthony was none the wiser? Aziraphale couldn’t let that stand. He had to go to Anthony no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale grasped the door handle and flung the door open. As soon as he stepped outside, he felt the distinct lack of a presence. Aziraphale’s eyes darted to both sides of the hallway, but saw nothing amiss. He stepped outside cautiously, keeping a careful eye out for danger. 

He paced down the hallway carefully, feeling silly for planning to run earlier. Nevertheless, he had to talk to Anthony. It was the right thing to do. He had just about reached the living room again, hearing the sound of a record playing, more bebop this time now that Aziraphale had left the room, when he felt it again. 

It happened all at once. He felt the cold presence at his back, and then the terrifying sensation of a cold hand on his shoulder. Aziraphale couldn’t suppress the frightened yelp that escaped him at the sensation. 

He heard Anthony make a sound of alarm from the sitting room. As quickly as the presence came, it left. Aziraphale was left reeling for a brief moment before Anthony came barreling into the hall. He hissed anxiously, looking over Aziraphale quickly.

“I’m fine, really,” Aziraphale tried to assure him.

He must have not looked all that convincing because Anthony didn’t look all that soothed.

“I think I just need to sit down for a moment.” Aziraphale stuttered out while stepping into the room. 

Anthony followed him closely as Aziraphale made his way across the room. He skipped his usual armchair and sat down on the lounge, wanting to keep close to Anthony, already feeling better having him by his side.

Anthony practically leapt onto the lounge beside him and snuggled up close to his side. Aziraphale ran a hand down Anthony's head and upper body, to soothe him and also himself. He spoke quietly so that only Anthony could hear. 

“I think there’s something else in this house,” he admitted quietly.

He felt Anthony tense at his side. Anthony’s head whipped to the side to meet Aziraphale’s frightened gaze.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” Aziraphale admitted. “I thought I was seeing things that weren’t there. But just now, I felt something.” Aziraphale said. 

Anthony looked at Aziraphale anxiously before looking towards the doorway of the living room, hissing menacingly. The sound was different than Aziraphale had ever heard before. The sound felt electric, and Aziraphale could swear he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“I felt a hand on my shoulder,” Aziraphale continued. “It felt cold, and wrong,” he said.

Anthony hissed again, slinking off of the couch and stalking towards the doorway. Aziraphale quickly leapt off of the couch to trail after him. Aziraphale watched Anthony scan the hallway, hissing menacingly, a predator stalking its prey.

“It just comes and goes,” Aziraphale told him. “It’s like this presence. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Anthony looked back at Aziraphale and nodded in understanding.

“Do you know what it is?” Aziraphale asked with a pit in his stomach, already mostly certain of the answer. 

Anthony let out low hissing noise and nodded his head in confirmation.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the pit in his stomach widening.

“I want to go back to the bedroom,” he decided. “I was able to lose it there earlier, it just feels safer, somehow.”

Anthony nodded sharply in understanding and led Aziraphale back down the hallway quickly. He looked around carefully at every turn and very corner until they reached the bedroom door. 

Azriaphale opened the door and stepped inside, but turned around behind him when Anthony didn’t follow.

“Anthony?” he asked. 

Anthony merely shook his head and stayed in the doorway.

“You’re not going to try and go after it are you?” Aziraphale asked in alarm.

Anthony hissed lowly in disagreement. He remained in front of the doorway and looked out towards the hall.

“You’re not going to guard me are you?” Aziraphale asked. “Don’t do that, come inside, it’s safer here, together.” 

Anthony shook his head vehemently. The air shimmered around him and he looked towards the hallway once more.

“Anthony, you don’t have to do this alone, I can protect you too,” Aziraphale protested in frustration. 

Anthony ignored him, the air shimmered again, stronger this time, and the door to the bedroom closed shut. Aziraphale stared at the doorway in disbelief before striding over to the door and trying for the handle. Just as he feared, it was locked tight.

“Come now Anthony, really?” he yelled through the door. 

Anthony didn’t say anything in response. Aziraphale huffed angrily. He tried the door a few more times before writing it off completely. Anthony’s magic had him completely locked in. Aziraphale sat on the bed and crossed his arms close to his chest, fuming with anger. 

He sat there for a long time, forgoing even changing into his nightclothes before the light got so dim he could barely see with the weak light shining into the room from underneath the doorway.

Aziraphale dressed for bed in near blindness, banging against the wardrobe and then the bed when he finally managed to dress and shuffle across the room. He sat on top of the bed above the covers, glaring at the doorway waiting for Anthony before suddenly, a very familiar sensation hit him. 

Aziraphale was hit with a sudden wave of inexplicable fatigue where just moments before he was wide awake. He did his best to resist it, but it wasn’t much use. He was falling fast asleep. 

***

Aziraphale woke up what must have been hours later, because he felt even more rested than usual when he awoke in the middle of the night. The door to the bedroom opened, and although it was still pitch black and Aziraphale couldn’t see a thing, he did make out the familiar footfalls of Anthony creeping in in human form.

“I’m still mad at you,” Aziraphale said, while sitting up in bed. He heard the click of the door close and Anthony’s footsteps draw near.

“I’m sorry Angel, but this is very serious,” Anthony explained as he climbed into bed.

His voice sounded tired and strained to Aziraphale’s ears. 

“You’ve overdone it again,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but point out.

“Better than the alternative,” Anthony muttered darkly. 

Aziraphale sighed, deeply pinching the brim of his nose.

“What was that thing Anthony?” he asked.

Anthony didn’t say anything.

“Unless this is something you can’t say,” Aziraphale realized.

“I’m sorry Angel,” Anthony said. “All of this is my fault.”

“None of that now,” Aziraphale said with a wave of his hand. “You know I don’t believe any of that. Memory or no memory.”

Anthony wisely kept his mouth shut and didn’t press the issue.

“Do you think they're still out there, whoever or whatever it is?” Aziraphale asked instead.

“I don’t know,” Anthony confessed. “But I’ve been placing wards all over the house, just in case.” 

“Oh Anthony,” Aziraphale sighed.

“We don’t have a choice Angel,” Anthony pointed out. “This is the only way.”

“Oh I hate that you're right,” Aziraphale said. “Just be careful Anthony, I don’t want you getting hurt because of me. 

“I’ll try, I promise.” Anthony said.

Aziraphale was quiet for a long moment, mulling over a thought that had been on his mind since earlier that night.

“It’s them isn’t it.” he said. “The person who put us under this spell.” 

“Yes,” Anthony sighed deeply.

“How did they get in, why now?” Aziraphale asked.

“I don’t know for sure,” Anthony said. “But I’m not letting them back in Angel, I swear it.”

“I know, I know you won’t.” Aziraphale soothed him, taking Anthony’s hand in his. “Just, don’t leave me behind.”

“I won’t,” Anthony said. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done! Things are finally happening hahaha. I hope you guys are enjoying the fic so far. We've still got a little ways to go but it's finally coming together! Let me know what you think as always.


	17. Chapter 17

Everything changed after that night. Aziraphale tried to go about his routine as normal, but he always found himself looking over his shoulder when he was cooking or weeding his garden. There was a sour feeling lying at the pit of his stomach, no matter how he tried to keep his mind off of it. After a while, he conceded that it was there to stay for quite some time.

Anthony scarcely left his side during the day. He was always close, keeping a careful eye out. He didn’t go out to jaunt in the garden any longer. Instead, he accompanied Aziraphale in his day to day tasks around the house, not straying even an inch from his side.

Aziraphale couldn’t say that he wasn’t grateful for the company. He felt safer, less anxious with Anthony by his side. After finishing his chores around the garden, he let Anthony lead him deep through the garden so that he could yell at his plants properly, while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Watching Anthony hiss at chrysanthemum bushes made him feel a bit sorry for the poor things, but it certainly helped to lift his mood when witnessing Anthony in his element. 

“Must you be so strict with them?” he asked, seeing Anthony move on from the warm orange colored chrysanthemums to the vibrant patch of yellow pansies in the plot next to them.

Anthony hissed an affirmative in response. Of course, their trek through the garden wasn’t all pleasant. Anthony was carefully at work as well. As he moved from flower bed to flower bed, Aziraphale saw that same shimmer in the air cover each one as they passed through. Wards, Anthony had said the other day.

“Let’s head back,” Aziraphale said, when he saw Anthony begin to tire. “I wouldn’t mind a spot of lunch, now would you?” 

If Anthony caught on to Aziraphale’s game, he didn’t say anything about it. Anthony let himself be led by Aziraphale into the kitchen. Aziraphale made them some cold cut sandwiches, where Anthony only mostly ate the meat.

After lunch, Anthony was insistent on setting up more protections around the chateau. Aziraphale trailed after him through what felt like just about every hall and every room on the first floor. They spent a great amount of time together in the library and the sun room. 

Aziraphale watched shimmer after shimmery haze through the air like a particularly powerful and consistent mirage with a growing sense of trepidation. He glanced more than once at Anthony to make sure he didn’t tire himself out too much.

Anthony had a careful look of concentration on his face, never wavering even once from the task at hand. Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes away from Anthony. He swallowed dryly when Anthony shot him a curious look, and Aziraphale found himself looking away quickly. 

There was a certain low level of anxiety with everything that they did for the rest of the day and few days following thereafter. Aziraphale and Anthony stayed close to one another, and Anthony didn’t let Aziraphale out of his sight. There hadn’t been another incident after that fateful night. Instead of making him feel less anxious, the more time that passed without another incident, the more and more wound up Aziraphale became.

“What’s that old saying?” Aziraphale said to Anthony one night when they were tucked away safely in bed together. “About waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

“Ugh,” Anthony groaned, tired and sore from an entire day of spell casting wards over the extensive grounds of the manor. “I know what you mean.”

“I just wish I knew what we were dealing with,” Aziraphale said with no small bit of frustration. He clutched the bed sheets tightly in his hands. “Like, maybe I could help somehow.”

“You are helping Angel,” Anthony said soothingly. “Just being here helps,”

“Well, I’d like to be a little more useful than just being here,” Aziraphale grumbled. “Sometimes I wish I knew how to do magic like you.”

“It’s not always all that it’s cracked up to be,” Anthony said.

“Oh?” Aziraphale said. “And how’s that?” 

“Well,” Anthony said. “I guess I have a story or two.” 

“Tell me,” Aziraphale said, leaning closer eagerly. “Oh, unless I’ve heard these already?” he asked when the thought struck him.

“No, no,” Anthony said. “No, I never told you this one.” 

“Go on,” Aziraphale said smiling.

“This was a while ago,” Anthony said. 

“Before we met?” Aziraphale guessed.

“Oh no,” Anthony said. “Just before we really started to uh, spend more time together. We didn’t always get to see each other all of the time.”

“Right,” Aziraphale nodded in understanding, before realizing Anthony couldn’t see him do it.

“So I might, have um, started a rumor,” Anthony started.

“A rumor?” Aziraphale asked. He could feel his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Why did you do that?”

“Well, I’ll get into that in just a second,” Anthony promised. 

“So I was in eastern Europe at the time for uh, work,” Anthony said. “And there was a whole bunch of awful stuff happening then.”

“Work?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yeah, I don’t really uh, work for that group anymore. Anyway, a whole lot of things were going wrong then. Sickness, in animals and people, famine, and some small wars. Just a terrible time all around.”

“It certainly sounds terrible,” Aziraphale said.

“Yes well, anyway, head office asked me to pop round there, get acquainted with the locals when people started to get antsy.”

“Antsy,”

“Yes, antsy, like all finger pointy. And well they were miserable because pretty much everything was going wrong, and they started blaming each other for their problems. You know, the usual stuff.”

“That’s terrible,” Aziraphale said with sympathy.

“Yes, well, things were really getting worse and worse by the day. People turning on each other, getting violent. And I thought to myself, right I’m not dealing with any of this. Can’t get any good wine when the owner of your favorite vineyard is accused of all sorts of nefarious things for no bloody reason.”

“What kinds of things?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, you know, superstitious things.” Anthony said, uneasily.

“Like what?” Aziraphale asked.

“Like, you know, occult nonsense. Toss a handful of salt over your shoulder to bring good luck, accuse your neighbor of being the harbinger of gloom and doom.”

“Like witchcraft,” Aziraphale realized all at once, suddenly thinking of the research he did all those months ago. 

“Yes, exactly that.” Anthony said.

“That’s horrible,” Aziraphale said, bringing a hand to his mouth. 

“Yes and I was unfortunately stuck right in the middle of it.” Anthony said.

“Were you okay?” Aziraphale asked with alarm. “They didn’t hurt you for having magic did they?” he panicked. 

“No, no,” Anthony said firmly. “One good thing about that is you can make it so people don’t suspect you,” he said.

“Oh good,” Aziraphale breathed in relief. 

“Anyway, the locals, not so lucky.” Anthony said. “And it was starting to get really bad, people killing each other for no reason, just terrible.”

“Killing?” Aziraphale asked with alarm. 

“Yes well people tend to get violent when they’re scared.” Anthony reasoned. “So I thought to myself, alright enough of this then. I gathered everyone round and started a rumor. I said alright everyone all of the famine and illness going round not witches, no witches here nope it’s all good now.”

“You tried to make it better,” Aziraphale realized.

“Well…” Anthony said. “Not exactly, just tried to stop things from going absolutely pear shaped.” 

“Still, that was very admirable,” Aziraphale said. 

“Anyway that didn’t work, and I realized people weren’t going to listen unless I blamed something else.”

“You didn’t accuse anyone did you?” Aziraphale asked.

“Technically I did,” Anthony admitted. “But also, technically I didn’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale said, having difficulty wrapping his head around the idea of Anthony accusing an innocent person.

“I blamed some people, but also made something up,” he said.

“Okay…” Aziraphale said.

“I blamed the problem on people who were already dead,” Anthony clarified.

“How?” Aziraphale asked, incredulously.

“Oh you know, since everyone was caught up in blaming the occult or whatever I thought to myself, well why not just, make something up?” he said.

“Make something up?” Aziraphale said. “How do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t want people to go ‘round blaming each other willy nilly,” Anthony explained. “But everyone loves a good scapegoat, so I blamed all of the plagues and all of the famine and whatever else was going wrong, there was a lot going wrong in that time Angel let me tell you, and I blamed it on people who were already dead.”

“Already dead?” Aziraphale said, feeling his eyebrows raise even more.

“Well, the people dropping dead from disease anyway.” Anthony said.

“And how did you manage that exactly?” Aziraphale said, with no small amount of skepticism. 

“Told them the vampires did it,” Anthony said easily. “Used a spot of magic so to speak to spread the word along.”

“You told them the vampires did what?” Aziraphale asked with an incredulous laugh. “Come now Anthony, now I know you’re having me on.”

“Oh I’m serious,” Anthony said solemnly.

Aziraphale sat in silence for a long while, ruminating over Anthony’s words and the implications there of.

“So, you invented the vampire then?” he said. “Just to clarify.”

“Pretty much,” Anthony admitted.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. 

“Oh?” Anthony asked.

“It doesn’t make sense, Anthony, that myth has been around for years now, centuries even.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony said nothing to contest Aziraphale’s protest. 

Aziraphale thought for a long time. Anthony had never lied to him, not once since he arrived at the mansion. Everything he ever said was true, and everything he kept quiet about was entirely out of his control.

“Anthony, how old are you?” Aziraphale said, finally.

“I wish I could tell you,” Anthony said. 

Aziraphale felt his mind race at the implications. 

“Wait a moment,” he said suddenly, a thought coming to him. “Didn’t you say before that we knew each other for a long time?” he asked.

“I did,” Anthony agreed.

“And didn’t you say that we already knew each other around this time?” Azirpahale said.

“Yes,” Anthony said. 

Aziraphale felt a faint buzzing sensation in the back of his head. He blinked rapidly, despite not being able to see anything. 

“I-I don’t understand,” Aziraphale said, feeling a migraine crash through his head.

“Angel?” Anthony said nervously. 

“I don't-” Aziraphale said again, halting.

“Don’t think too hard,” Anthony warned him. “It might be too much at once.”

Despite Anthony’s words of warning, Aziraphale’s mind was already racing miles ahead. The migraine grew stronger and Aziraphale felt his eyes water from the pain.

“Angel,” Anthony breathed whilst carefully holding Aziraphale in his arms. 

Aziraphale could hear his words and feel his touch, but it felt muted somehow. Like being underwater. There was something there at the edge of the water. Something just beyond Aziraphale’s reach that he knew, that he couldn’t remember, but the more he strained to remember, the more the roar in the back of his mind grew.

“Angel, you’re panicking.” Aziraphale could dimly hear Anthony say from far away.

Aziraphale tried to focus, tried to hold his head above the water, but no matter how he tried, he could feel himself going under. He thought he could hear Anthony yell his name, but there was a pounding in his head, and a thundering in his chest that could not be ignored, and the rising crest of a wave that crashed into him all at once.

‘That’s right,’ Azirapahale thought. ‘I remember this now.’ 

And that was the last thing he thought.

***  
It was cold where Aziraphale was. He never remembered being so cold before. In fact, he didn’t recall ever being cold before at all.

There was an eerie fog around him, and somehow that felt familiar. How did he get here again? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had to save Anthony. They took him, they found out about them. It was all Azirpahale’s fault. He never should have gotten so close. But it was too late now. He had to find him. He had to make sure he was safe. 

The hair on his arms rose in the cool temperature. He shivered. Shivering was such an odd sensation. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked it.

“This won’t do,” Aziraphale muttered to himself. He could use a coat, or a cloak. Yes, a cloak would do nicely. He concentrated carefully, feeling a familiar rush of warmth and light flow inside of him. Suddenly, he was wrapped in a warm embrace of long warm white wool.

“Much better,” he sighed. It was strange however, he felt oddly tired all of a sudden.

Aziraphale blinked rapidly, feeling his vision go fuzzy around the edges. “Curious,” he said to himself. 

That had certainly never happened before. 

“Never mind that,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just have to find him, have to find…” he trailed off confused. “Who do I have to find again?” he said out loud.

The more he tried to remember, the more his thoughts skittered away from him. Like a tide receding from the shore, never to be seen again. Aziraphale looked around him. The fog was thick, cold, and unyielding. He focused his eyes, and just beyond the mist, he could see trees and foliage around him, and suddenly, Aziraphale found that he was in a dense thicket of trees, not without a small amount of panic.

Thoughts and disjointed and fragile memories flew away from him no matter how hard he tried to follow. The blood rushed in his ears and a sharp pain in his mind grew. Before he knew it, the tide rushed back to meet him again and Azirapahale felt himself fall under. 

***

When Aziraphale came to it was still pitch black. His head was pounding more painful than he could ever recall experiencing. Aziraphale grit his teeth to the pain, and for a terrifying moment, he feared he had gone blind.

His ears were still ringing, and it took longer than he would have liked for his hearing to fade back in. The first thing he heard was a quiet sound of muffled sobs, and the sensation of warm hands stroking his face. 

“Anthony?” he said quietly. His voice quiet and strained. 

“Angel,” Anthony said with shuddered breaths. “Oh thank somebody, you’re awake.”

“I-” Aziraphale said, confused. “What happened?” 

Anthony didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, right away. Aziraphale felt warm water drop on his face, and felt Anthony continue to stroke his face, inconsolable. 

“Anthony?” he asked nervously, trying to sit up from where he lay in bed. He didn’t recall lying down.

When he tried to sit up properly, he was met with a sharp stab of pain in his mind, and an acute sense of vertigo. He couldn’t help but leave out a short hiss of pain. 

Anthony’s sobs quieted at the sound. “Don’t get up,” he said sharply, just a touch on the side of too loud, causing Aziraphale to wince.

“O-okay,” he said, breathing through the pain. 

“Shh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Anthony said much more quietly after he felt Aziraphale flinch. 

Aziraphale felt a warmth radiate from Anthony’s hands on his face and then wash over his face and then his head, not unlike the sensation of slowly submerging one's head in warm water. Aziraphale quickly felt the pain leave him, and for once, did not chide Anthony for the overuse of his magic.

“Well, I feel much better now,” Aziraphale said weakly, after a long moment of silence as he struggled to sit back up in bed. 

Anthony swiftly moved to help him, placing some pillows behind Aziraphale’s back and helping him sit up. Despite being healed Aziraphale felt shaken and weak.

“This is my fault,” Anthony said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have pushed you too far, too soon.”

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale sighed. “I just didn’t expect that to happen is all,” he said with a weak laugh.

Aziraphale thought a moment before a thought came to mind. “Wait, you were trying to help me remember?” he asked.

“I figured out some ways around the spell,” Anthony explained quietly. “Recently I mean, I thought of helping you come to some conclusions after telling you things I can say,...” he trailed off. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Oh Anthony, it’s okay, you healed me,” Aziraphale soothed him.

“After hurting you,” Anthony countered. 

“We didn’t know that would happen,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Besides, technically your plan did work,” he said.

“You remember now?” Anthony asked in surprise.

“Only one thing,” Aziraphale explained. “I wish I remembered more though.”

“Anything is better than nothing,” Anthony said. 

“I was trying to find you,” Aziraphale said, remembering his strange dream or memory. “I was trying to find you, but then I forgot where I was.”

Anthony said nothing, instead he heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m glad you remembered me at all.”

“Oh right and I think I had magic too,” he said in sudden realization, trying to recall his memory. 

Aziraphale heard Anthony inhale sharply. 

“You remembered,” Anthony whispered.

“It was useful,” Aziraphale said. “I was cold so I made myself a cloak,” he said. 

“Did you remember anything else,” Anthony said eagerly, taking Aziraphale’s hand in his.

“Well, no,” Aziraphale said. “I only remember being tired after I made the cloak, that’s it.”

“That’s alright,” Anthony said. “You remembered something, that’s wonderful.” Anthony said, stroking Aziraphale’s hand with his thumb.

“Could have done without the headache,” Aziraphale joked.

“Angel, I am so sorry,” Anthony apologized again.

“Anthony, it’s fine,” Aziraphale stopped him, sensing another drawn out apology. “I’m glad I remembered anything at all. It feels nice not to be completely in the dark.”

Anthony sighed heavily again. “I just wish you didn’t have to remember that way.” 

“Well it’s done now, so there’s nothing else for it.” Aziraphale said. 

“Right,” Anthony said quietly, although he still sounded upset to Aziraphale’s ears.

“Why don’t we go to bed?” Aziraphale suggested. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” Anthony agreed. He helped Aziraphale right the pillows again and they lay down together side by side in the dark. 

In a moment of boldness, Aziraphale scooted over closer to Anthony, reaching out for him in the dark. Anthony stayed put quietly as Aziraphale made himself comfortable. He lay his head on Anthony’s chest, hearing the comforting sound of his heart beat and the rise and fall of his chest.

“Angel?” Anthony said, nervously.

Aziraphale could hear his heartbeat quicken and his breathing speed up. 

“Much better,” Aziraphale sighed, closing his eyes.

Anthony felt stiff under his touch for a long while, before slowly relaxing. Aziraphale felt one arm wrap around his waist while the other ran through his hair gently.

“You’re something else,” Anthony mumbled. 

Aziraphale smiled into Anthony’s chest and breathed in his comforting scent. He fell asleep quickly that way, feeling the steady beat of Anthony’s heart and wrapped in his protective embrace.  
***  
Aziraphale awoke alone in bed the next morning, the door to the room left ajar. The sun was high in the sky, almost noon by the time Aziraphale woke and walked into the kitchen, still in his sleeping clothes. 

Anthony had left breakfast on the table waiting for him, some sweet pastries and a pot of tea left on the stove. Aziraphale sat at the kitchen table and helped himself. He still felt fatigued from all of the excitement of the night before. Aziraphale ate his fill keeping a careful eye on the garden door in case Anthony chose to slither inside. 

Anthony had still not come back into the kitchen by the time Aziraphale was done with his breakfast and he had put away the rest of the food and washed his plates. He stepped into the garden and began tending to his plants, getting more and more anxious the longer Anthony didn’t appear. 

By the time the sun had fully risen to its full height in the sky Aziraphale was well onto his way to panicking. What if that terrible shadow had hurt Anthony? What if it had spirited him away somewhere? 

Aziraphale was just about to go around the grounds looking for him when he saw something approaching by the path leading to the front of the house. Aziraphale saw a dark and red flash of color in the corner of his eyes, gleaming in the sunlight. He hadn’t even fully turned around before he felt the anxiety leave his body. He would know those familiar colors anywhere.

It was Anthony coming towards him. Aziraphale waved him down and met him halfway through the garden, feeling something loosen in his chest at the sight of him.

“Busy morning?” he asked. 

Anthony tilted his head a bit almost like a shrug. His eyes looked a bit glazed and his body almost slumped.

“More magic?” Aziraphale guessed.

Anthony nodded tiredly.

“Well, why don’t we pop back inside and we can figure out what to make for dinner later?” Aziraphale suggested.

Anthony shook his head in disagreement, causing Aziraphale to frown. He went to slither past him and venture into the further part of the garden.

“Other plans?” Aziraphale asked with a frown.

Anthony turned around briefly and nodded tired 

“Well, they’ll have to wait,” Aziraphale said boldly, striding in front of him and blocking his path.

Anthony looked up at him, startled.

“I have another urgent task for you, the magic can wait for now.” Aziraphale said.

Anthony straightened a bit in alarm.

“You are going to take a nap with me in the sun room,” Aziraphale decided.

Anthony deflated, before shaking his head in disagreement.

“Oh, you don’t want to take a nap with me?” Aziraphale asked a bit deviously, with faux hurt. 

Anthony straightened and looked at Aziraphale anxiously.

“Well, if that’s how you feel,” Aziraphale pouted turning away from Anthony. “I guess it can’t be helped.”

Anthony hissed and slithered to Aziraphale's side. Aziraphale slyly looked at him in the corner of his eyes. “Unless you’ve changed your mind that is?” he said.

Anthony nodded.

“Well good, I’m glad,” he smiled warmly, leading Anthony back inside.

Anthony trailed behind him carefully, just a bit shell shocked from being duped by Aziraphale’s wiles. They made their way into the sun room. It was warmer than the rest of the house, having all the sunlight shine in from its ornate open windows, but was far more cooler than it was during the summertime. 

Aziraphale made himself comfortable on the lounge, this one being decidedly more comfortable than the one in the living room, and patted the spot beside him. Anthony tentatively followed, leaning his long body up onto the couch and sidling up to Aziraphale’s side. 

Aziraphale lied down and stretched out on the lounge with a sigh. “Now isn’t this nice?” he mused.

Anthony hissed weakly, curling his head beneath Azirpahale’s chin and letting half of his body drape over the side of the lounge.

“Why don’t we just lie here and rest for a bit, shall we?” Aziraphale suggested quietly. 

Anthony hissed quietly and did just that. Within moments he was out like a light. Aziraphale stroked his long body carefully, never tiring of the hard yet smooth feel of his scales under his fingertips. He lay awake for a long time while Anthony slept, enjoying the sound of birdsong coming in through the open window of the garden and the feel of warm light on his face. 

He still didn’t know much about he and Anthony’s shared past, or how he might have come to lose his magic, although he had a sneaking guess of which entity might be responsible for that. Still, none of that mattered now. All that mattered was that they were together now. Aziraphale hadn’t failed in his quest all those months ago, even if he lost some things along the way. He found Anthony. He found him. And he was never going to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done, things are finally happening! I hope you guys like this chapter. Next update in another 2 weeks or so schedule permitting. Let me know what you think.


	18. Chapter 18

Aziraphale and Anthony enjoyed a good long nap filled with relative peace and quiet, save for the sound of birdsong that filtered in through the open sun room window. They woke up some hours later when Aziraphale roused, his stomach rumbling for lunch. Anthony stretched languidly and slumped off of the lounge.

“Hungry?” Aziraphale guessed.

Anthony nodded in response and slithered a bit away from the lounge to give Aziraphale room to stand up without stripping over Anthony’s long body and tail. They ate a quiet lunch together. Aziraphale cooked, and refused to allow Anthony to spell anything after spending so much of his energy protecting the house.

Still, despite the nap and filling lunch, Aziraphale could not sway Anthony from taking the rest of the day off. With a heavy heart, he followed Anthony around the grounds while he cast more wards, watching the familiar shimmer blur through the air more times than he cared to see. By the time the sun began to hang low in the sky, Anthony was looking twice as tired as he did earlier that day. 

Aziraphale tried not to fret too much over Anthony, but it was difficult to do. He couldn’t stand seeing how his eyes glazed over in exhaustion, and how his body slumped with fatigue. He put his foot down when the light truly began to grow weaker and Anthony looked shy of passing out.

“Alright, inside, now.” he said, firmly.

For once, Anthony didn't protest. He meekly followed Aziraphale back into the house. He collapsed on the lounge in the sitting room and fell asleep quickly. Aziraphale prepared dinner for the both of them. He took out the steaks he had marinated the day prior out of the fridge and began chopping up some of the potatoes he grew in the garden.

For dinner, he made roasted potato wedges with olive oil, thyme, and rosemary, along with two juicy steaks that he threw in a pan to cook over the stove. He figured Anthony would favor a more meat heavy dish for dinner tonight, after the exhausting day that he had. 

Anthony tucked into his dinner, swallowing his portion of steak whole and promptly fell asleep in his seat, his upper body slumped over the table. Aziraphale smiled. He took his plate away from him and washed it quietly in the ink. 

He gently shook Anthony awake when he was done. They turned in early that night while the sun was weak in the sky. 

The next few days passed more or less the same. Aziraphale would accompany Anthony around the grounds while he strengthened the wards. Aziraphale would convince him to accompany him while Aziraphale was working in the garden. He claimed that he needed Anthony’s gardening expertise, but really he wanted to give him a break from over-extending himself. All of Anthony’s hard work must have been paying off though, since they hadn’t had another incident since the last incident. Still, it was hard to sway Anthony away from his determination to keep them safe.

It was only about a week later, after hours upon hours of wards being placed, did Anthony finally seem satisfied with the protections around the house. Aziraphale was working in his garden one early afternoon when Anthony slithered towards him with a particularly pleased air about him. 

“All done?” Aziraphale guessed.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically. He seemed more happy and far less tense than Aziraphale had noticed he had been previously during the last week.

“Good,” Aziraphale said, with no small amount of relief. It was nice to know he and Anthony were safe now, and even better to know Anthony wouldn’t exhaust himself as much anymore. 

“Any other plans today?” Aziraphale asked carefully, wiping the dirt from his gloves and gathering his gardening tools together for the day.

Anthony shook his head, causing Aziraphale to smile warmly.

“What do you want to do then?” he asked.

Anthony thought for a moment then motioned for Aziraphale to follow. Aziraphale put his tools away in the gardening shed quickly before following Anthony through the garden. Anthony led him down the familiar path through the garden to their little bench by the pond, or duck pond as Aziraphale had inwardly dubbed it.

Aziraphale was not disappointed to see the same family of ducks gliding across the pond. Aziraphale sat down at the bench with Anthony alongside him. They were only a few weeks into Autumn, but already the weather was beginning to turn. The trees around them had slowly begun to change color from the bright vibrant green of summer into warmer hues of oranges, yellows and reds.

Aziraphale took in a deep breath of cool air and sighed. The air was steadily getting cooler as the days went on. Soon, he would need to trade in his thin long sleeve jumper for a thicker one.

“Don’t they look lovely?” he asked Anthony, watching Daphne and her little family glide across the water.

Anthony hissed in agreement. 

Aziraphale watched Daphne and her family swim about the pond. Her ducklings weren’t quite so little anymore. In fact, Aziraphale would say that they were just about fully grown. Gone were the soft fuzzy feathers of early childhood and the awkwardly gangly limbs of adolescence. Odysseus, Violet, Lily and Eve were now fully grown adult ducks that looked more like their mother now than they ever had.

Anthony and Aziraphale watched them for a long time, enjoying the warm sunlight and cool air of Autumn that was well on its way. They were enjoying their time by the pond for some time before something curious happened. Aziraphale began to hear a cacophony of honking in the distance. 

Anthony heard it too. He looked upwards and craned his neck in the distance towards the source of the noise. They waited on the bench as tiny pinpricks of color came in through the sky. Aziraphale watched, breathless, as the hoard of color approached.

“Anthony, look at them all,” he marveled as the source of the color came into view.

It was a whole flock of ducks, flying in from north and closer towards them.

Daphne and her family noticed them approached as well as they honked in response. Daphne started to flap her wings, and her children followed. They flew up into the air to meet the impending flock halfway.

A symphony of honking echoed throughout the autumn air as the impending flock came in like a cloud rolling in from the horizon. Daphne and her brood became smaller and smaller as they flew upwards into the sky and joined the mass of migrating birds. Aziraphale watched them go with a heavy heart. He knew this day would come for some time now, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Eventually, Daphne, Odysseyus, Lily and Eve were completely blended with the flock, impossible to discern from the rest of the ducks. The mass of birds flew overhead their little pond and away further into the distance. Anthony and Azirphale watched them go, mesmerized by the sight. After a long time the sounds of the flock faded and the flock grew smaller and smaller until they completely disappeared from view.

“It’s almost sad to see them go,” Azraphale said quietly, by the time they were completely out of sight.

Anthony hissed in agreement.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Aziraphale asked. 

Anthony looked at Aziraphale for a moment and nodded his head. Aziraphale smiled. “Well, if we’re here still by springtime, hopefully we’ll get to see them again.” 

Anthony shot him a look at that.

“Well, after we come back from our fabulous tour around the world that is,” Aziraphale teased.

Anthony hissed in amusement. They turned back inside after that. Aziraphale started on an early dinner while Anthony relaxed in the lounge. The threat of the malicious presence was still on the back of their minds, but Aziraphale was confident in Anthony’s ability to keep them both safe.

The next few days passed peacefully. Aziraphale tended to his garden, while Anthony kept a careful watch over him. They went back to the duck pond once after Daphne and her family left, but it just wasn’t the same without them. 

Aziraphale started to go back to experimenting with his cooking and baking again in order to keep himself busy. He and Anthony slowly started to work through some of the food they had stored in the pantry and the icebox that he had stored the food he had grown in his garden. 

It was one early afternoon where he found one particular recipe that he was aching to try.

“Oh look at this!” he smiled at Anthony who was draped lazily in his seat at the kitchen table. “Doesn’t this look scrumptious?” he asked, pointing to a wonderful artist's rendition of a handsome looking apple pie.

Anthony looked at the pie and nodded in agreement. 

Aziraphale smiled as he skimmed over the recipe. He turned the page and beamed at the full illustration.

“Oh Anthony look at this,” he said, excitedly pointing to the illustration on the page.

On the page of the magazine was a fully covered illustration of an apple orchard. The apples were painted to be a gleaming red along with the lovely vibrant green colored leaves splashed on the page. On the following page was an illustration of a young woman with short black hair and overalls picking an apple right off of the tree. 

“Doesn’t that look fun?” he asked.

Anthony looked at the page and tilted his head in what Aziraphale could now interpret after so many months of living together as a shrug.

“Well I think it looks fun,” Aziraphale said.

Aziraphale read over the recipe’s ingredients again. “I think we should have everything we need,” he muttered to himself. “Sugar, flour, water, lemons, butter, nutmeg, eggs, cinnamon, salt, and oh the apples!” Aziraphale exclaimed. 

“Anthony could you please-” Aziraphale was about to ask before Anthony beat him to it. 

Suddenly a large porcelain bowl stacked with apples appeared out of thin air. There were green apples and red apples in the mix stacked in a neat small pyramid.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said with a beaming smile. 

Aziraphale re-read the recipe again to make sure he had everything right before getting to work. He started with the crust first. He measured out the appropriate amounts of flour, sugar and salt and mixed them together with a large wooden spoon. He then added the softened butter and set aside the wooden spoon. Instead me mixed it all together with his hands until the dough became gooey and yellow all together.

Once the dough was properly done, he placed the mound in a separate container and put it to cool in the icebox. After that, he got started on peeling and coring the apples. He chose four green apples and two red ones, as the recipe suggested, so as to not make the pie too tart. He cut the apples into thick and placed them in a large glass bowl. 

He started to mix the apple wedges together with the lemon juice, sugar, and spice together in another glass bowel. He heated up the stove and placed a cast iron pan on the fire with a generous slab of butter. The butter melted quickly in the pan. Aziraphale scrambled to place all of the apples on the skillet before the butter could burn.

He mixed it around for a bit as the apples cooked until they became soft and slightly caramelized. Once that was done, he took the pan off fire and turned off the stove. He transferred the now softened apples back into the same glass bowel as before and measured out the spices, and poured them inside before mixing them around and covering the apples well.

Aziraphale cleaned up around the kitchen and went to check on Anthony while he waited for the dough to finish cooling in the icebox. Anthony had retired to the sitting room and laid down on the couch, snoozing in front of the low fire he had started in the fireplace. 

Aziraphale smiled as he saw him and threw a blanket over him. He sat in his armchair and opened up the current book he was working through, ‘Black Beauty,’ which he was enjoying thoroughly. 

He read the next few chapters while Anthony snoozed through his long nap, before placing his bookmark into the novel and going back into the kitchen. 

He took the dough out of the icebox and let it thaw for a little bit before cutting it in half. He took one mound of dough and began flattening it out with a rolling pin and then molding it to the bottom of the pie mold. He took the apple mixture he put to the side earlier and spread it evenly inside the pie tin. Once that was done he rolled out the other mound of dough and began cutting thick strips of dough from it. 

Once all of the strips were created, Aziraphale set out to start on the lattice crust. It was difficult to do at first, draping some strips over the top of the pie and then weaving the remainder into a proper cross-hatch pattern. It was harder than he thought too, alternating between strips of dough in and out, sometimes having to double back and undo his work and redo it again properly. The magazine made it sound so much easier!

Eventually, he wrapped his head around the concept and the lattice crust was set, although a bit lopsided in some places that Aziraphale had pretty much given up on.

‘It’s the first try, it doesn’t have to be perfect,’ he thought to himself with a mental shrug. 

After the crust was put in place, Aziraphale cracked an egg into a small bowel he had set aside earlier and carefully separated the yolk from the egg white by using the shell of the egg to separate the two, and let the egg white drip down into the sink. He thought it was a bit of a waste, and he made a mental note to figure out a use for it next time.

He transferred the egg yolk from the half shell into a small ramekin he took out of the cabinet one handed, having forgotten to take it out ahead of time. He added a small amount of cream and a pinch of salt, before mixing it all together with a fork. Once that was done, he was ready to brush the egg wash onto the crust of the pie when he realized he hadn’t taken the pastry brush out yet.

Aziraphale placed the ramekin to the side and started digging through the drawers for a pastry brush. He dug around for it, but couldn’t find one. A bit desperately, he looked through some of the cabinets, moving aside plates and cups, but after rummaging through the whole kitchen, he still couldn’t find one.

He sighed to himself and defeated, walked back into the sitting room. Anthony was still snoozing on the couch. He must have shifted while Aziraphale was gone because the blanket he placed on top of him earlier was completely covering his head. Aziraphale cringed at the thought of waking him. He waffled for a bit as he stood at the doorway, seriously putting some thought into putting baking his pie to the side so that Anthony could sleep, before he heard a snuffling noise from the couch. 

Anthony poked his head out of the covers and looked over towards Aziraphale blearily. He must have sensed Aziraphale’s eyes on him. Aziraphale smiled sheepishly to him and quietly shuffled over to the other side of the couch. 

“I seem to be in need of a pastry brush,” Aziraphale whispered .

It took Anthony a few moments to process what Aziraphale had said before he nodded in understanding. Suddenly, Aziraphale had felt a weight in his hand. There was a small wooden brush with soft bristles at the end.

“Thank you,” he whispered quietly, not wanting to trouble Anthony any further.

Anthony nodded sleepily and buried his head back underneath the covers while Aziraphale quietly made his way back to the kitchen. He dipped the brush into the egg wash and began liberally coating the pie crust. Once all of the egg wash was used up, he popped the pie into the oven.

He cleaned up while the pie baked and set out an iron cooling rack on the counter. It took about half an hour for the pie to finish and for the crust to turn a lovely golden brown. 

Aziraphale opened the oven door to check on it midway through baking. He put on his oven mitts and carefully took the pie and tin out of the oven and placed it on the oven rack. The kitchen was filled with the pleasant aroma of apples and cinnamon. Aziraphale’s stomach growled at the smell, and he could feel his mouth water in anticipation. 

Waiting for the pie to cool properly was an exercise in torture for Aziraphale. Anthony slithered back into the kitchen curiously, most likely woken up by the smell. 

“Almost done,” Aziraphale smiled. 

Anthony hissed out a pleased sound, and suddenly the table was set for two. Aziraphale took the pie to the table and placed it on the folded crocheted cloth that Anthony had materialized for it.

“I hope it came out okay,” Aziraphale said, as he took his seat.

Anthony made an encouraging noise as he settled into his seat as well. A pie cutter appeared out of thin air. Anthony floated it towards Aziraphale to grasp. Aziraphale cut a generous slice into the pie and placed it on Anthony’s plate. He did the same for himself.

He took a piece off with his fork, the crust golden and flaky, and took a bite. Aziraphale sighed at the taste. It was wonderful.

“How is it?” he asked Anthony, who had done the same.

Anthony nodded and ate another bite of pie. Aziraphale was pleased with how the pie came out, even on the first try. His mind was already racing with other apple recipes he could make. It was such a wonderful fruit for fall, after all.

“Maybe I’ll make an apple crumble next,” he said to himself, as he scraped the last of his pie slice off of his plate.

Anthony made an appreciative noise in response. 

Aziraphale experimented with baking after the success of the apple pie. He tried other pies, such as blueberry and rhubarb, although he didn’t care much for the latter. He even tried some savory foods, one such being a rather time consuming bacon and three cheese quiche that was delectable, if tedious to prepare. 

Anthony still went around the manor alone on occasion, confident enough in his wards to leave Aziraphale alone when he went to strengthen the ones he had placed previously. He was never gone for long though, no more than an hour or so. 

Aziraphale and him spent the following days pleasantly together. One day, Aziraphale was tending his garden when Anthony excitedly approached Aziraphale.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, looking up from his weeding.

Anthony wiggled excitedly in place and jerked his head, motioning for Aziraphale to follow. Aziraphale stood up and followed him dutifully, letting himself be led through the garden. They passed the now empty duck pond along the way. Aziraphale glancing at it longingly, missing Daphne and her little family already. 

They walked through fields of marigolds, pansies, and violas before the flower fields ended into what Aziraphale remembered had been clean empty land, save for some tasteful shrubbery. Now, the empty green field was brimming with rows upon rows of fully grown trees heavy with fruit.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the sight. Almost overnight, an entire orchard of fully grown apple trees, with their long thin trunks and low hanging branches had sprouted forth.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale said, turning to him. “How long did this take you?”

Anthony tilted his head and then swung his tail a few times. 

“Three days?” Aziraphale asked, counting the few swishes of his tail. 

Anthony nodded.

“You’re not too tired,” Aziraphale said, running his eyes over Anthony’s body for any signs of fatigue.

Anthony shook his head. He didn’t look tired, nor did her earlier when they were trekking through the garden. 

“Well you seem alright,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony nodded and gave out an enthusiastic hiss.

Aziraphale looked back to the orchard beaming. “Anthony it’s wonderful!” Aziraphale breathed. “Thank you,” he said. “I love it.”

Anthony ducked his head down bashfully. Together Aziraphale and Anthony walked through the rows of trees, Aziraphale gazing upwards through the branches, reverent.

“Look at them all,” he breathed, pointing to the many apples nestled in the vibrant green branches. “Not a one rotting on the ground either,” he said, glancing down at the grass below them. 

Anthony hissed, and puffed out his chest. 

“So they won’t rot at all?” Aziraphale asked, guessing his meaning.

Anthony shook his head.

“Brilliant,” Aziraphale beamed.

Anthony stopped him at one particular tree practically bursting with apples. Before Aziraphale’s eyes, a tall two sided step ladder appeared and at the very top step, resting on the flat plant of wood with a wide wicker basket with a white cloth nestled inside.

“Oh Anthony, you really do think of everything,” Aziraphale smiled.

Anthony watches Aziraphale climb the step ladder carefully from the base of the ladder. Once Aziraphale reached the top, he took the handle of the basket and hung it from the crook of his arm. He leaned close to one of the lower branches and reached out, picking the apple right from the stem.

He picked the apple by lifting it closer towards the stem and twisting. The fruit separated from the tree easily enough. Aziraphale smiled, turning the fruit over in his hand and inspecting it closely. It was a lovely deep red color, and there was not a bruise nor blemish in sight. 

“Perfect, just perfect,” he said, nestling the apple safely into his basket.

He grabbed all the apples that were in easy reach, before having to go back down the latter and move it to another part of the tree in order to grab the others. By the time he was done picking, the tree was clean of apples, his basket was bursting with fruit, and his arm was strained from carrying the heavy load.

“What do you think I should make with all of these?” Aziraphale asked. “Another pie perhaps?” 

Anthony nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Oh, but these are all red apples,” Aziraphale realized looking down at the basket. “We would need some green ones as well to make it.”

Anthony huffed a bit and started further down the line of trees. Aziraphale hastily put his basket down on the ground and hurried on after him. They passed a few rows of different colored red apple trees, some a darker red than others, before Anthony led him to an entire row of trees ripe with bright green apples on display.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you dear?” Aziraphale smiled.

Anthony huffed in response. He quite pleased with himself.

Aziraphale took his basket of red apples and placed them on the kitchen counter, before Anthony conjured another for him to pick his fill for the green ones. Once that was done, Aziraphale started flipping through some baking recipe books he found in the library, as well as the magazines Anthony had already conjured for him.

“There’s so much I want to make,” Aziraphale had gushed that night, after Anthony transformed into a man again for the night. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Start with the pie,” Anthony said. “I liked that one.”

“Oh hush,” Aziraphale said, smiling all the while in the dark.

The very next day he did just that, and tried his hand at the apple pie again. The lattice still came out a little less wonky, and not entirely like the perfect picture boasted on the cooking magazine Aziraphale had pulled the recipe from, but it was decidedly better than the first attempt.

It was nice knowing that the apples wouldn’t spoil on or off of the vine. It gave Aziraphale time to experiment. For breakfast, he made apple muffins with a cinnamon crumb topping with some of the green apples he pulled from the trees.

After that, he made baked apples. He took the core out of the center and filled the hole with pecans, butter and brown sugar for a pleasant center. He even tried his hand at making apple sauce, by boiling chopped apples in a pot with one large cinnamon stick that Anthony had conjured for him, a process that took quite a bit of mashing to get the apples down to a smooth paste.

“Not getting sick of apples are we?” Aziraphale asked Anthony one night in bed, after cooking a decent amount of applesauce.

“Never, you always make things interesting,” Anthony said. “I don’t think I’d ever tire of your cooking.” 

Aziraphale blushed at his words, although neither of them could see it. “You flatter me,” he said, eventually. 

“Is it flattery, or is it just true?” Anthony countered, although Aziraphale could hear the smile in his voice. 

Aziraphale was in a pleasant mood for the next few days after that. He experimented with other cooking throughout the week, but always made sure to have a basket of apples on hand in case he wanted to experiment with other recipes.

Aziraphale was flipping through one of his cookbooks for dinner early one evening when he found the perfect salad that would accompany the chicken that was marinating in the icebox. He read over the recipe a few times. It would need some walnuts and pecans, along with spinach. It would go nicely with some apple slices and vinegarette on top.

He reached into the basket for an apple, but found that his hand only met thin air.

“Empty already,” he muttered to himself, inwardly running through all of the apple recipes he had made lately.

He shrugged to himself and took his hand basket with him out the back door of the kitchen and into the garden. The ladder from before was still by the trees. All Aziraphale had to do was move it underneath another tree, a red apple tree this time, before climbing up. He filled up his basket generously with apples until his arm strained under the weight of them, only stopping midway to pick green apples from another tree while he was at it. By the time he was done, his basket was full to bursting again.

“This will do nicely,” he said to himself, glancing down at his bounty. 

Aziraphale climbed down the ladder carefully and made his way inside. He walked through the garden once more and back towards the door that led back into the kitchen, glancing down at his basket again to make sure all of his apples stayed in place, when he noticed something.

Aziraphale saw a dark shadow in the corner of his eye as he walked through the entrance into the kitchen. He felt a cold chill run down his spine, a sensation that was sickeningly familiar to him.

Aziraphale startled. He just begun to turn and face the intruder, when he felt a terrible sensation. He felt the cold and terrible touch of a hand in the center of his back, and before he could do anything, he felt it push forwards, causing him to go careening forward. Aziraphale dropped the basket with a shout, instinctively pushing his hands in front of him to break his fall. 

It all happened so suddenly. He felt his left wrist bend wrong as it impacted against the ground, and his head hit the floor, despite his efforts to break his fall. Aziraphale crumpled to the ground, dazed, as his vision went fuzzy.

He blinked his eyes rapidly, and tried to steady his sight. He saw the shadow lurk again, like a viper waiting to strike through his cloudy vision. His mind was numb as it approached, his heart beating rabbit quick in his chest, before he heard a sharp piercing hiss from somewhere far away.

The last thing Aziraphale saw before losing consciousness was a dark red and black blurry form darting past his vision and the scattering of bright red apples lying on the floor before everything faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest chapter! As always I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm really enjoying writing these latest few chapters as things begin to get serious. I've been baking a lot myself too, a lot of the stuff Aziraphale cooks is what I've been trying out. Next chapter out two weeks from nowish so let me know what you think.


	19. Chapter 19

When Aziraphale came to, he had a pounding headache, and a heavy weight lying over his chest. He groaned. The pain was searing, almost blinding. He blinked rapidly. The light caused the pain to worsen when he opened his eyes, so he squeezed them shut instead. The weight draped on top of him shifted and then eased. He heard a low hissing noise close to his ear soon after.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale whispered, slowly coming to.

He felt breath on his face as something nudged at it. Now, Aziraphale didn’t usually swear, but he felt that for once it was necessary for the situation at hand. 

“Bloody hell,” he gasped, trying to ignore his pounding headache. He sat upright from the floor.

Anthony let out a worried series of hisses, and used his magic to gently help Aziraphale sit up. 

Aziraphale tried not to let out any sound of discomfort, as he was blinded by the light shining in from the open doorway to the garden, but even he couldn’t help the small gasp and noticeable wince from the strain. 

Anthony let out a long and low sounding hiss, Aziraphale felt a now familiar warm and tingling sensation spread throughout his body, particularly around his head. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale breathed. “You’d make a lovely physician,” he said.

Anthony gave him a flat looking stare, correctly guessing at Aziraphale’ attempt to erase his worries.

“I really am fine now,” Aziraphale assured him quietly. “All thanks to you, that is,” he said.

Anthony ducked down and looked at the floor. He didn’t look back up for a long moment, and it took Aziraphale perhaps too long to realize that he was trembling.

“Oh dear,” he said once he came to that realization. “Oh Anthony, come here.”

Anthony took a moment before slowly creeping towards Aziraphale’s arms. He slumped his long upper body in Aziraphale’s lap while his head rested against Aziraphale’s chest, directly over his heart.

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale whispered, running soothing strokes over Anthony’s smooth scales. “I’m still here, we’re okay.” 

Anthony shook in his arms as he soothed him. And for once, Aziraphale wasn’t afraid. Sure, there was an unnamed, unknown entity lurking in the shadows, but it wasn’t himself that he was worried for. It was the person shaking in his arms that had quickly become his entire world. It wasn’t fear that Aziraphale felt in his heart. No, it was determination. Aziraphale had no idea who was trying to hurt them, but he did know that they had made a grave mistake. They messed with the wrong person.

“Come on,” Aziraphale said, patting the top of Anthony’s head gently. 

Anthony pulled back from Aziraphale’s chest and looked at him in confusion. 

“Why don’t we turn in for the night?” Aziraphale suggested. 

Anthony shook his head violently in disagreement. 

“Well there’s no sense in lying here on the floor,” Aziraphale pointed out dryly. 

Anthony shot him a look at that.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, so don’t you even think about going after them without me,” Aziraphale said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Anthony glared at him, but the fight quickly left him when Aziraphale stared him back down. 

Aziraphale had to fight a smile from breaking through his stern facade and felt the corners of his lips twitch dangerously. 

“Let’s go then,” he said, rising a bit unsteadily to his feet. 

Anthony watched him with a sharp eye, and together they made their way to the master bedroom.

Aziraphale locked the door carefully behind them, although he wasn’t sure it would do much good against a malicious spirit. He made his way over to the bed, and promptly collapsed on top of it. 

Aziraphale felt the bed shift from where Anthony climbed up onto the mattress, and felt the cool press of his scales when he curled up beside him. Aziraphale rolled over tiredly and pressed his face close to Anthony’s cool body.

“What a mess,” he grumbled. 

Anthony hissed in response. 

Aziraphale might have been healed thanks to Anthony’s magic, but he was still incredibly fatigued from the whole ordeal. 

“A nap would be nice,” he mused tiredly, feeling himself begin to drift off.

Anthony made some rumbling noises in response. The last thing Aziraphale noticed before falling asleep was the familiar warm sensation of magic that flowed in the air around them, and the gentle sound of Anthony’s breathing in his ear. 

***  
When Aziraphale woke up, the room had gone completely pitch black. Aziraphale sat up, his tired body groaning in protest. His stomach rumbled, his mouth was dry with thirst, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable at having fallen asleep in his day clothes rather than changing before bed. In short, he felt almost a bit hungover without the pleasure of drinking alcohol.

Anthony began to shift beside him. 

“Angel,” he asked, groggily.

“I’m here,” Aziraphale assured him. 

Aziraphale felt the bed shift as Anthony moved to sit up. 

“I’m so sorry,” Anthony apologized immediately, his voice stricken. “They should have never been able to get past the wards.”

“Anthony it’s okay-” Aziraphale began.

“It’s not okay!” Anthony shouted suddenly. “It’ll never be okay Angel! On what planet is this okay? This is dangerous! They won’t stop Angel, they won't-” he cut himself off with a deep shuddering breath.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale said, calmly while taking one of Anthony’s hands in his. “None of this is your fault,” he said. 

“You don’t know that,” Anthony whispered. 

“Actually I do,” Aziraphale said firmly. “It’s their fault, not yours. Now I won’t hear another word on the matter, understand?” he asked. 

“I-yes,” Anthony agreed in defeat.

“Good,” Aziraphale smiled. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Anthony said.

“Yes, the plan to stop that terrible thing,” Aziraphale said.

“I-I don’t know,” Anthony admitted. “They should have never been able to get through the wards in the first place.” 

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale said. “We can figure this out together, I know we can.” 

“Right,” Anthony said. “Of course.” 

“Could there be some weak spots in the wards?” Aziraphale suggested. “Maybe some blind spots.”

“It’s possible,” Anthony said. “I can look through them,” he said, moving to get out of bed.

“Not now you won’t,” Aziraphale said firmly. “We can do that together tomorrow, it’s too dangerous right now.”

“Fine,” Anthony said. “You’re right.”

“I know I am,” Aziraphale said, just a bit smugly. 

“Yes, well, don’t let it go to your head,” Anthony said. He paused for a moment, and for a split second Aziraphale thought he had offended him before he asked; “That is a good theory though, now that I think of it.”

“How do you mean?” Aziraphale asked.

“The matter of them getting in through the wards,” Anthony said. “And how did they do it?”

“I’m not sure,” Aziraphale said, not quite understanding his meaning. 

“Hmmm…” Anthony hummed deep in thought. “How did it happen, that is the question of the hour. How do you think, then?” he asked.

“Umm, I’m not sure exactly, I don’t really have any ideas,” Aziraphale said.

“Try to think about it,” Anthony urged him. “You’ve been able to figure out so many things so far.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll have a go.” Aziraphale thought back to the very first time he noticed something amiss. Back when he got trapped in the wine cellar.

“They locked me in the cellar to start,” Aziraphale said. 

“Okay good,” Anthony said. “What else?”

“Well, it was awfully dark in there, with the door being jammed shut and all,” Aziraphale snorted. 

“Right,” Anthony said, encouragingly.

“Well after that, there was the time where I felt their hand on my back,” Aziraphale said, shuddering at the memory. “I never did get a good look at them, if they can be seen at all that is.” 

“Now that’s a cheerful thought,” Anthony said sarcastically. “But you do have a point. I haven’t been able to get a good look at them either.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked in surprise. “I thought you did when I fell earlier at least.”

“Well, I did see a little something,” Anthony said, mysteriously.

“But you can’t tell me,” Aziraphale realized.

“No, but I can help you, just a bit,” Anthony pointed out.

“Very clever!” Aziraphale smiled. 

“What happened this time exactly?” Anthony asked, guiding Aziraphale along.

Aziraphale’s mind raced to remember. “I was pushed,” Aziraphale said. “A lot harder than the time I first felt their touch.”

“I see,” Anthony said.

“You don’t think-” Aziraphale asked before cutting himself off. 

“Go on,” Anthony urged him.

“You don’t think that they’re getting stronger, do you?” Aziraphale wondered. 

Anthony was quiet for a moment before he said finally; “I was afraid of that.”

“So you think so too?” Aziraphale said in surprise.

“It makes sense,” Anthony agreed. “They haven’t bothered us in months, but now they're able to slam doors and touch you, hurt you even,” he trailed off.

“That’s troubling,” Aziraphale said. “How do you think that’s possible?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure at all,” Anthony admitted. “And I have no idea how they keep getting in.” 

“Well, we’ll figure it out eventually I suppose,” Aziraphale sighed. “Now back to our mysterious enemy.”

“Yes,” Anthony said.

“I never did get a good luck at them, I don’t think,” Aziraphale said, racking his brain from all of the times he felt like he was being watched. “It just always seemed dark, I think.”

“Dark?” Anthony asked. 

“Yes, all of those times they appeared it felt cold. And I saw, I don’t know, a shadow,” Aziraphale said, thinking back to when he was walking back to the house from the garden days ago, when he saw a shadow in the corner of his eye.

“A shadow,” Anthony repeated. 

“They seem to like them,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but say with a bit of bitterness in his voice, thinking back again to being trapped in the wine cellar.

“Oh,” Anthony said quietly.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked.

“I wish I could say,” Anthony said.

“What, that they like shadows?” Aziraphale said again. All of a sudden a thought struck him. “They like shadows,” he said, slowly this time.

“What is it?” Anthony said. “Did you figure it out?” he asked, excitedly.

“Is that why they're getting stronger you think?” Aziraphale asked. “Because there’s less daylight now.”

“Yessss,” Anthony said. “Exactly,”

“Oh well,” Aziraphale flushed, rather pleased with himself for figuring it out. “Wait a moment, but it’s still Autumn.”

“Yes,” Anthony said solemnly.

“But, it’s just going to get darker out,” Aziraphale realized. 

Anthony didn’t have anything to say to that.

“It’s going to get worse then,” Aziraphale said.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Anthony said, passionately. 

“Yes, but oh, this isn’t good.” Aziraphale said. “It’s not even winter yet.” 

“I’ll protect you Angel, I promise.” Anthony said.

“We’ll protect each other,” Aziraphale countered. “We’ll figure it out eventually,” he sighed. “I just don’t want you to beat yourself up over this Anthony, none of this is your fault.”

“Angel,” Anthony said. “You’re too good to me.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale tutted. He reached out in the dark for Anthony. It took some doing, but he was able to run his hand over Anthony’s face, brushing it over his nose by accident at first, before cupping his cheek.

Anthony leaned into his touch, while Aziraphale rubbed his thumb in his cheek. Anthony’s skin was soft when he was a man. It was so different from his rough scales when he was a serpent. 

“You’re the one who’s too good to me,” he whispered.

“Angel-” Anthony breathed, with feeling.

Aziraphale could feel the ghost of Anthony’s breath against his wrist. Aziraphale’s heart leapt in his chest at the sensation. 

“Anthony,” Aziraphale whispered, his heart fully racing now. 

Anthony didn’t say anything in response, except for a quick shuddering exhale of breath. 

Aziraphale found himself enchanted by the sound. He leaned in closer, rubbing his thumb against Anthony’s cheek, and then accidentally brushing the corner of his mouth. 

Anthony let out a gasp at his touch and Aziraphale nearly felt his heart stop beating. Anthony’s lip had felt so soft against his thumb. Aziraphale didn’t notice that he had leaned in so closely to Anthony’s face, until he could feel his breath on his face. 

“Angel?” Anthony asked uncertainly, trembling in Aziraphale’s grasp.

Aziraphale had a split second moment of hesitation before he decided on something very important. This time he would try something brave. Aziraphale leaned in, breaking the distance between them in the dark. His lips brushed only the corner of Anthony’s mouth at first, before he readjusted and covered Anthony’s completely with his own. 

Anthony had moved to grasp Aziraphale’s shoulders tightly. Aziraphale felt the shuddering exhale of breath against his mouth and sighed in response. 

“Angel,” Anthony croaked, his voice thick with emotion. 

“Shh,” Aziraphale whispered. “It’s alright.”

Anthony gripped Aziraphale’s shoulders tighter, almost desperately. Aziraphale leaned in for another kiss, moving his hand from Anthony’s cheek and running it through his hair. Anthony’s hair was short, but soft underneath his fingertips. He sighed again into the kiss, feeling his head go light from the pleasure of it. 

They broke apart again, and it took Aziraphale a few moments to realize that now he was the one that was trembling. 

“Angel,” Anthony sighed with pleasure.

“I love you,” Aziraphale blurted out before cringing in horror. He didn’t mean for that to come out!

“I-” Anthony stuttered. “I love you too,” he confessed.

Aziraphale’s heart swelled. “Yes, well, um good,” he stuttered in embarrassment.

Anthony chuckled in response. He moved his hands from Aziraphale’s shoulders and cupped either side of Aziraphale’s face. “I love you,” he said again, this time with more conviction. “And nothing, and no one in creation is going to tear us apart.”

Aziraphale felt hot tears sting in his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Anthony pulled him into his warm embrace. Aziraphale clung to him, overwhelmed with emotion. 

Aziraphale felt lighter and freer than he had ever felt before. There were no secrets between him and Anthony anymore. Aziraphale loved him and Anthony loved him back.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh for the sheer joy of it. “Look at us,” he giggled.

“Look at us,” Anthony repeated, amusement coloring his voice.

“We’re only just a little bit silly, aren’t we?” Aziraphale asked.

“Only just,” Anthony agreed.

Aziraphale buried his face into Anthony’s shoulder and sighed in contentment. “Is it wrong if I don’t want to sleep yet?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Anthony whispered.

They lay down in bed together quietly in the dark. Anthony carded his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale kept his head on Anthony’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Aziraphale tried to stay awake. He didn’t want sleep to come and find that tomorrow he couldn’t hold Anthony in his arms in daylight. But eventually, the sun would rise in the eastern sky, and Anthony would be changed again.

Aziraphale buried his face just a little more closely into Anthony’s chest and thought desperately; “just a little while longer.”

***

Things did and didn’t change after the kiss. Aziraphale went about his business around the manor the same as usual, while Anthony kept a careful guard, strengthening the wards and keeping him company. 

Some of Aziraphale’s crops were really coming along. Some would even be ripe soon. He and Anthony stuck close together, wary of another attack but despite that, still enjoying each other’s company. He and Anthony went about their normal routine, cooking together, eating together, wandering the garden together and spending early evenings together while there was still daylight.

The only thing that really changed during the day was that Anthony made sure the both of them were locked in the master bedroom well before nightfall. Last night’s realization of their enemies growing strength was a rather rude awakening for them both. The further away they kept from the shadows, the better.

While their behavior during the daylight hours hadn’t changed much, their time at night together had changed drastically.

Anthony and him still liked talking together at night, taking advantage of Anthony’s ability to speak, discussing plans and ideas for facing their enemy. That much hadn’t changed. It was just the exciting new development of their relationship that had changed, one that the two of them liked exploring together. 

Aziraphale found that he really liked running his fingers through Anthony’s short hair and hearing him gasp in pleasure when he cheekily bit into his lower lip. Even just a day after their first kiss, or first kiss after Aziraphale lost his memory as he was quietly beginning to suspect, he and Anthony had already blown past shy chaste kissing and jumped straight into more heated exchanges.

“Mmm Angel,” Anthony sighed again after Aziraphale turned his attention from biting at Anthony’s lip and started biting gently at his neck.

“Is this alright?” Aziraphale asked shyly. 

“Perfect,” Anthony sighed, pulling Aziraphale in for another deep kiss.

Aziraphale might not have remembered kissing anyone before, but his body might well have. Aziraphale’s entire body welcomed Anthony’s touch and shivered in delight when Anthony ran his warm hands over eager flesh that thrummed with want.

“We should probably stop,” Anthony said, shortly after taking his tongue out of Aziraphale’s mouth.

Aziraphale’s heart was running in his chest. He clutched at Anthony’s shoulder tightly. 

“We should?” he asked, dazed.

“Yes Angel,” Anthony chuckled. “I don’t want us to do too much all at once.”

“Erm, okay,” Aziraphale said, hesitantly. “If you say so,” he said, feeling a bit put out.

“We have tomorrow,” Anthony pointed out, while pulling away from Aziraphale.

Aziraphale found himself leaning towards Anthony as he went, not wanting to let him go just yet. “Okay,” he reluctantly agreed. “Tomorrow then.”

Anthony pulled completely away from Aziraphale’s arms and lay down on his side of the bed. Aziraphale slowly followed his lead, pulling the covers over his body with a frown.

“Goodnight Angel,” Anthony said, before letting out a large yawn.

“Um, goodnight.” Aziraphale said.

He lay in the dark for a long time. Anthony fell asleep quickly and easily judging by his slow even breaths not too long after. 

Aziraphale had no such luck. His blood was still thrumming with want. He felt wide awake and unable to sleep. It was only after what must have been hours later did Aziraphale begin to feel tired, and then a while after that, he fell asleep.

Aziraphale woke around the same time Anthony, now a serpent again, began to stir beside him. The light in the room was weak, shining in from the hallway through the cracks of the door to the room.

Aziraphale rose and began moving towards his wardrobe cautiously. Aziraphale must have noticed his hesitance because soon after he heard the creak of a door opening. 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, now able to see much more clearly with the added light shining in from the hall. “Could do with some other lights in here though,” he muttered to himself as he pulled out some brown corduroy trousers and a soft woolen cream colored jumper from the wardrobe.

Anthony made a high pitched hissing noise, and for the first time in a while, Aziraphale couldn’t decipher it. Aziraphale shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye. Anthony was still seated on the bed but his entire upper body was upright and facing towards Aziraphale.

“Everything alright?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony hesitantly nodded. Aziraphale frowned a bit at his behavior but shrugged it off. 

Anthony moved away from the bed and guarded the doorway while Aziraphale changed, his long serpentine body turned away from him. It took Aziraphale a moment to realize that Anthony was trying to give him a bit of privacy.

Aziraphale felt his face flush and he quickly turned away from Anthony and back towards the wardrobe, quickly dressing himself. He and Anthony ate a quick breakfast together before Aziraphale set off for the garden. He did a bit of weeding, and then did a careful inspection of each of his crops.

His broccoli was nearly ripe. Another week or so and they would be ready for harvest. Judging by the state of the other plants, they had at least another month or so to go, although the carrots looked a bit further along than the others.

He and Anthony didn’t spend as much time outside that day, on account of the gathering clouds on the horizon and the harsher winds. It began to drizzle with rain about an hour after they turned back inside, and then outright poured shortly after that. 

Anthony and Aziraphale took refuge in the sitting room. Anthony got a fire to spring to life in the fireplace with a lazy flick of his tail. He made the flames strong and bright, chasing the shadows away from the room and a comforting warmth to settle in.

Aziraphale sank into his armchair with a grateful sigh. Anthony took a little longer to settle into the lounge, placing a great deal of wards around the room, judging by the persistent haze that briefly fell through the air. 

“It’s a bit nerve wracking, isn’t it?” Aziraphale asked. “Waiting for the other shoe to drop that is.”

Anthony let out a hiss of agreement, placing a few more wards before making his way to the lounge and climbing up onto it.

Aziraphale thought for a long time, staring into the fire and stroking the cover of the book he had placed on his lap idly. For once, he wasn’t much in the mood for reading. “Do you think-” he started, before cutting himself off with a frown.

Anthony made an inquisitive noise over from the lounge.

“Do you think we should try and trigger more of my memories,” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony let out a low hiss in what Aziraphale interpreted as disagreement. 

“Anthony,” Aziraphale started. “I need to get my memories back.”

Anthony shook his head back and forth vigorously.

Aziraphale sighed. “I know you’re concerned, especially after last time,” he said. “But I need to get my memory back eventually.”

Anthony shot him a look and let out another hiss.

“Fine,” Aziraphale said. “We’ll discuss this tonight then,” he decided. 

They spent the remainder of the daylight hours in the sitting room before turning in while there was still a good amount of daylight left. Anthony stayed close to Aziraphale as they made their way down the hall later that evening, keeping a close eye on every dark corner and shadow.

Anthony locked the door to the bedroom after they both entered the room with a sharp flick of his tail. The darkness in the room was as persistent as ever, causing Aziraphale to grimace.

“Could do with a little more light,” he grumbled, making his way to the bathroom in the near dark to wash up.

Aziraphale washed his face and brushed his teeth while his eyes strained in the dark. He was glad he had decided to switch to having baths during the daylight hours long ago to avoid this very problem. Once he was done, he stumbled his way back into the bedroom and towards the wardrobe. He grumbled to himself as he undressed and rummaged around for his night clothes, near blind. Eventually, he found what he was looking for and finished dressing. He moved over to the bed and settled under the covers where Anthony was already waiting. 

“Are you able to see in the dark?” Aziraphale wondered. 

Anthony let out a questioning hiss.

“Just wondering,” Aziraphale said. 

They lay in bed peacefully together. The shadows grew darker in the room and as always, Aziraphale was hit by a powerful fatigue that sent him straight to sleep. Aziraphale woke later all of a sudden. He sat up in bed and turned towards Anthony. “Well now we can continue our conversation,” he said.

“Angel,” Anthony said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I think that’s my decision to make,” Aziraphale said calmly.

“Ugh-Angel,” Anthony groaned. “Why are you like this?” he said, more to himself than to Aziraphale. 

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous,” Aziraphale explained. “I need my memory back. I already got one before, I can get more.”

“Doing that nearly killed you,” Anthony hissed. “It’s too risky.” 

“How else am I supposed to remember then!” Aziraphale said in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air.

Anthony was silent.

Aziraphale felt his heart sink to his stomach. “You think I won’t get my memories back?” he asked.

“No Angel-” Anthony rushed to explain. “I just think forcing it is too dangerous, there has to be another way.” 

“There is no other way,” Aziraphale argued. “Not one that works at least.”

“Angel please-” Anthony begged.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale said, letting out a long frustrated breath. “I have to do this. I have to remember.” he said. “I know you can help me trigger them, please,” he said, taking Anthony’s hand in his. “Help me do this.”

Anthony sighed heavily in defeat. “Okay,” he conceded. “I’ll help you, but promise me you won’t try to do too much at once.”

“I promise,” Aziraphale smiled.

“And one more thing,” Anthony said. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said.

“You tell me what this is really about too,” Anthony said. 

Aziraphale felt the smile slide from his face. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I mean you have another reason for doing this,” Anthony said. 

“Besides remembering what I’ve lost?” Aziraphale asked, a little snappishly. 

“I know you Angel,” Anthony said calmly. “You’re the smartest person I know, there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Anthony,” Aziraphale breathed out a sigh.

Anthony wasn’t entirely wrong. In fact, he was right on the money. There had been a thought niggling the back of his head ever since he recovered that one precious memory and combed it over and over again in his mind.

“I had magic,” Aziraphale said. “Like you, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Anthony confirmed. 

“Then maybe, I was thinking that if I get some of my memories back, I can get a little bit of magic back too.” he confessed. 

Anthony let out a long hissing breath. He wrapped an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and pulled him in. Aziraphale let himself be pulled. Anthony tucked Aziraphale’s head against his collarbone and rested his cheek on top of Aziraphale's head. 

“Oh Angel, why didn’t you tell me?” Anthony asked. 

“I tried not to think of it too closely,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony held him tight and ran a comforting hand up and down his forearm.

“They took it from me,” Aziraphale said. “They took my magic, and if I can get it back-” he stuttered, feeling tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

“Shh Angel, you don’t need to say it.” Anthony soothed.

“I don’t want you to do this alone,” Aziraphale continued. “We’re a team, I don’t want you only protecting me or spelling the grounds, I want to help.”

“Okay,” Anthony breathed. “Okay.”

“So you’ll help me then?” Aziraphale asked. “You’ll help me trigger my memories?”

“Yes, I will.” Anthony agreed. “But we’ll be careful and stop if it gets too much for you all at once.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale agreed. 

“I do have some ideas of how to help,” Anthony admitted.

“Oh?” Aziraphale smiled. “Thought about it a bit then?”

“Yes, it’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about.” Anthony admitted.

“Oh of course,” Aziraphale said. 

How could Aziraphale have forgotten? While he was the one with no memory, Anthony was the one with all of it. Anthony was the one who bore the burden of their shared past all alone

“Don’t worry too much about it Angel,” Anthony said, no doubt sensing Aziraphale’s guilt. “It’s not all bad.”

“It’s still pretty bad,” Aziraphale disagreed. 

“Nah,” Anthony said with ease. “You’re here now, we’re here together now, that means something.”

Aziraphale felt himself let out a small smile. “I do have a question though,” Aziraphale said.

“What’s that?” Anthony asked.

“Can you see in the dark then? He asked.

Anthony let out a bark of laughter. “Not right now I can’t,” he said. “What brought this up?”

“Well I figured you could, since it’s always so bloody dark in here,” Aziraphale reasoned. 

“I can’t see in the dark no, not when I’m like this,” Anthony explained.

“So you can when you’re a snake then?” Aziraphale asked.

“Sort of,” Anthony said. “I can sense heat, it’s not like I see it entirely with my eyes though.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said.

“Useful when I’m hunting mice in the garden,” Anthony said, casually.

“Oh stop it,” Aziraphale groaned.

“They’re pretty quick,” Anthony continued. “Makes it easier for me to catch them.”

“Okay that’s enough,” Aziraphale said quickly. 

Anthony let out another laugh. “You’re too easy to tease,” Angel. 

Aziraphale felt himself flush. 

“We’ll figure everything out,” Anthony promised, switching to a more serious tone. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale smiled. “I trust you.”

“Good,” Anthony said. “Well, now we can get some sleep.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Aziraphale asked slyly.

“Forgetting something, like what?” Anthony asked in confusion.

Aziraphale felt a smirk grow on his face. “My goodnight kiss of course,” he said with faux innocence.

Anthony let out a quick breath in shock. The sound made Aziraphale’s smirk grow wider. 

“Right, of course,” Anthony said shyly. 

Aziraphale beamed as he leaned in more closely to Anthony’s personal space. He brushed his hand against Anthony’s cheek and felt his heart stutter at the sound of Anthony’s quiet gasp. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked coyly. 

Anthony suddenly pulled Aziraphale in by the front of his shirt. Aziraphale’s quiet gasp of surprise was lost under the soft feeling of Anthony’s lips. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed, and he lost himself in the kiss. He ran his hands through Anthony’s hair, which was quickly becoming one of his favorite places to touch. It might have even been Anthony’s too, judging by the quiet groan of pleasure he let out when Aziraphale added the scrape of his fingernails as well. 

Too soon, Anthony broke away from the kiss. 

“We should stop,” he said breathless.

“Already?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but say.

“I don’t want us to go too fast,” Anthony reminded him.

Aziraphale scowled. He was beginning to hate those words with a passion. Anthony seemed not to care what an utter tease he was being. Aziraphale lay down quickly in bed with a huff, thoroughly put out. Anthony must have noticed his ire because he let out a snicker of laughter in response. 

“Goodnight Angel,” he said, with a laugh still in his voice. 

“Right, night then,” Aziraphale grumbled, causing Anthony to snicker even more. 

Anthony fell asleep quickly as usual while Aziraphale was stewing with his thoughts in the pitch dark. Fine, if Anthony wanted to be a tease, Aziraphale would let him. After all, two could play it that game.

Aziraphale drifted off to sleep as his thoughts whirled with plans of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the latest chapter. Things are getting a little more spicy lol, I hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think.


	20. Chapter 20

The next several days passed quickly without consequence. There were no mysterious shadows to push Aziraphale down or cause any trouble. Aziraphale kept a careful look out for anything, just in case. Aziraphale tended to his garden and worked in the kitchen during the day, and brainstormed how to tease Anthony more during the night. 

On one such night, after spending a good amount of time brainstorming how to jog Aziraphale’s memory yielded little results, Aziraphale sprung his first trap. 

“Anthony, could you help me for a moment?” Aziraphale asked innocently, one night in the dark.

“With what?” Anthony asked.

“Oh it’s just my shirt,” Aziraphale said. “I think I buttoned it wrong earlier. It’s hard to fix now without any light,” he said, casually.

“Erm right,” Anthony said. He tentatively reached for Aziraphale’s shirt. “You want me to re-button it?” he asked.

“After unbuttoning it, yes,” Aziraphale clarified.

Aziraphale could clearly hear Anthony’s sharp inhale of breath. “U-unbutton?” he stuttered. 

“Well, you’d have to unbutton it first to re-do it,” Aziraphale pointed out, with a devious smile that Anthony couldn’t see. 

“Right,” Anthony said quickly. “Of course.”

Aziraphale smirked the entire time Anthony carefully and slowly unbuttoned his nightshirt. Aziraphale breathed in Anthony’s scent, relishing every time Anthony accidentally brushed his hands against his skin. Aziraphale might have buttoned his nightshirt wrong on purpose earlier before bed for this very reason, but what Anthony didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, pleasantly when his shirt was re-buttoned correctly this time.

“Welcome,” Anthony muttered, making to pull away. 

Aziraphale stopped him with a gentle touch on his shoulder. He leaned in close, bridging the gap between them. “Forgetting something?” Aziraphale asked. He could hear Anthony let out another breath, his face close to his own.

“Of course not,” he whispered, bringing their lips gently together.

Aziraphale smiled into the kiss. He gently put his hand on the back of Anthony’s neck and pulled him in closer, putting their chests flush against one another. Aziraphale was feeling particularly bold that night because he quickly deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue slyly against Anthony’s. 

Anthony groaned into the kiss. Aziraphale could feel it rumble against his chest from where they were pressed together. Anthony’s resolve cracked a bit because he swiftly ran his hands up and down Aziraphale’s back, clutching at his shirt and meeting Aziraphale’s intensity with equal fervor. 

Aziraphale was nearly shaking with excitement, thrilled that his plan had worked so well. He lost sense of time as they kissed, panting heavily and tilting his head to reach a deeper angle. 

Anthony at one point took his mouth away from Aziraphale’s, causing him to tremble. He turned his attention to Aziraphale’s neck, scraping his teeth gently alongside the vein in his neck. Aziraphale felt his body jolt at the sensation. 

“Angel,” Anthony said as he clutched at Aziraphale tightly. 

“Hmm?” Aziraphale hummed.

“We-we can’t,” Anthony said, pulling away from Aziraphale.

“Oh darling why?” Aziraphale asked.

“We-we just can’t,” Anthony panted nervously. “You don’t-” he cut himself off.

“Don’t what?” Aziraphale asked incredulously, growing more and more alarmed.

“You don’t remember,” Anthony said finally. 

“Oh I don’t?” Aziraphale asked, sourly. “I didn’t notice.”

“Angel,” Anthony said.

“Well, if you don’t want to continue then there’s nothing else for it,” Aziraphale sniffed.

“Angel, please,” Anthony pleaded.

“Please what?” Aziraphale snapped. 

“Please don’t be mad,” Anthony said, helplessly.

“Well it’s too late for that now,” Aziraphale said. 

“I just-” Anthony struggled. “Angel, there’s just so much you don’t know.” he said.

“Oh, really now,” Aziraphale fumed.

“No, I mean, ugh I’m not explaining this right.” Anthony groaned.

“Then explain,” Aziraphale said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t remember our relationship before,” Anthony said bluntly.

Aziraphale flinched. “So we were together before,” he said quietly, feeling the fight leave him.

“Yes,” Anthony breathed. “I knew you would figure it out eventually, you were always clever like that.”

“Yes well,” Aziraphale huffed, feeling his anger fade more.

“It just feels wrong when I remember and you don’t,” Anthony explained.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said in realization. “You’re worried you’re taking advantage.”

“Yesss,” Anthony hissed. “Exactly.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a while, processing his words. He heard Anthony fidget nervously as he contemplated what he had said, paying no mind to Anthony’s anxiety, just a little bit meanly. There was a feeling building up inside of him that he quickly identified as amusement when he snorted indignantly.

“Angel?” Anthony asked, nervously.

Aziraphale ignored him as his snort turned into fully blown laughter. 

“Angel, really!” Anthony protested.

“Oh Anthony, you’re too sweet,” Aziraphale said, after his laughter had died down. “Take advantage, honestly.”

“Well it’s just not right. I didn’t want to hurt you,” Anthony explained.

“Oh Anthony dear, don’t worry,” Aziraphale said, more seriously. “You could never hurt me, not truly.”

“Still,” Anthony trailed off.

Aziraphale sighed and then thought for a moment. “Do you know what one good thing about losing my memory is?” he asked.

“What?” Anthony asked curiously.

“I get to experience everything again for the first time,” Aziraphale explained.

“Um,” Anthony stuttered. 

Aziraphale’s heart sped up and he smiled knowing that he had Anthony right where he wanted him. “I get to fall in love with you all over again too,” he said gently.

Anthony stuttered in response incomprehensibly. Aziraphale smirked and placed a teasing hand on his thigh above the covers. 

“You know, you’re a bit of a bastard sometimes,” Anthony said, finally.

“Well that must be true, it certainly sounds like me,” Aziraphale agreed, placing just a little more pressure on Anthony’s thigh.

“Definitely more than a bit,” Anthony corrected himself. 

“And you’re as sweet as I always thought you were,” Aziraphale said.

“Right, well I’m knackered,” Anthony said, causing Aziraphale to pout.

“Well all right,” Aziraphale conceded, thinking that he had teased Anthony enough for one day. There was always tomorrow. “Good night then,” he said, after he laid down and settled under the covers.

Anthony didn’t say anything for a moment, and Aziraphale was just thinking that he was truly upset with him, before he heard a sound of the sheets shifting along with the creak of the bed. He felt warm lips touch his own soon after that before they were gone.

“Night,” Anthony said, shyly, before retreating back to his side of the bed. 

Aziraphale touched his own lips with his hand. “Good night Anthony,” he said, and he found that he meant it. 

The next few days had Aziraphale and Anthony brainstorming ways to jog Aziraphale’s memory. There was quite a bit to work around, between Aziraphale barely remembering anything at all and Anthony not being able to communicate effectively around the particulars of the curse. It took one long frustrating night for Aziraphale to make another step of progress. 

“I hate this,” Aziraphale said in frustration, as he and Anthony went around in circles trying to break the spell. 

“We’ll get it Angel,” Anthony said. 

“I want to get it now,” Aziraphale sighed in frustration. “I wish you could just open your mouth and tell me everything you know, but this blasted spell is making things more difficult than they need to be,” Aziraphale growled. 

“That makes two of us,” Anthony agreed. 

“Can’t you just try telling me another story, of us I mean?” Aziraphale asked. “It certainly worked last time.”

“Trying,” Anthony said.

“I don’t see how the spell works though,” Aziraphale frowned. “Or why for that matter. Why have I forgotten and you remember? Why not just have wiped both of our memories, or worse,” Aziraphale shuddered. 

“Why indeed,” Anthony said.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier for them to just have both of us in the dark?” Aziraphale asked. “Or now that I think of it, why not just finish the job at all?”

“Angel,” Anthony said, alarmed. “Please don’t talk like that.” 

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Aziraphale admitted. “All of this, why bother going through the trouble of trapping us here? And why only attack us now?” he asked, thinking back to his last disastrous encounter with their enemy. 

Anthony remained silent as Aziraphale’s mind worked through it all.

“Whoever’s attacking us obviously has magic like you, like I did,” Aziraphale reasoned. “Enough to trap us and keep us here despite our best efforts,” he said. “I just can’t figure out why. What was the point?” Aziraphale placed his chin on his palm as he thought it over again and again.

The whole business just seemed pointless to Aziraphale. He might not have known how he and Anthony got themselves into this situation, but he also didn’t know why either. To outsmart their enemy, he’d have to think like them too, something that Aziraphale was finding very difficult to do without any context. 

“What’s the point?” Aziraphale wondered again, more to himself this time. Why not just kill them both? Not now when their enemy obviously had some difficulty slipping past Anthony’s wards, save for the few times they managed to attack Aziraphale, but before that. Back all of those months ago when Aziraphale was well and truly clueless and far more vulnerable than he was now. 

Why not further back than that even? Why not when Aziraphale was lost among mist and wood, and while Anthony was still trapped in the house and unable to protect him. It just didn’t make any sense. Nothing about this whole scenario made sense. Why needlessly draw it all out? 

Aziraphale felt himself freeze at the very thought. 

“Think of something then?” Anthony guessed, after Aziraphale had been silent for too long. 

“They wanted to draw it out,” Aziraphale said in shock. 

“What?” Anthony asked. 

“That was the whole point, that was always the point,” Aziraphale continued.

“What was the point?” Anthony asked.

“To draw it out, to make us suffer,” Aziraphale said. “They could have ended us both before I ever set foot here, but they didn’t,” he said. 

“That sounds about right,” Anthony sighed.

“You knew this?” Aziraphale asked, alarmed. 

“It adds up,” Anthony said. “At least their little game bought us some time.”

Aziraphale felt his heart pound in his chest at the implication. “We’re running out of time then,” he said.

“We are,” Anthony agreed.

“Anthony how can you be so calm about this!” Aziraphale exclaimed, feeling anxiety crawl up within him. 

“Practice,” Anthony replied, simply.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale started. 

“It’ll be alright,” Anthony said. 

“How can you be so sure?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Because you’re here,” Anthony said, simply.

“You,” Aziraphale started, angrily. “You can’t just say things like that,” he huffed.

He heard Anthony laugh. “I’m not as scared when you’re here with me,”

Aziraphale grumbled to himself. “Well, it’s still a shock to me.”

“I know,” Anthony said. 

“It’s just awful,” Aziraphale said in disgust. “Making us suffer like this, whoever did this to us is foul and cruel.”

“Too true,” Anthony agreed.

“You don’t seem so upset,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Just not surprised,” Anthony answered. 

Aziraphale guessed if he could have seen him in the dark, he would have seen Anthony shrug. 

Aziraphale thought for a moment before making a guess. “Did you, or we I suppose, know this person?” he asked.

“Yes,” Anthony admitted, sounding distinctly relieved. 

Aziraphale felt his entire world shake at the thought. “Did you know them personally?” he asked, anxiously. 

“More or less,” Anthony said. “We weren’t close, not really.”

Aziraphale felt his heart pound even harder. He buried his face in his hands. 

“Angel,” Anthony asked uneasily, sensing his distress.

“This is personal, isn’t it?” Aziraphale asked. “This whole thing, us being here, it’s personal it’s-” he gave out a shuddering breath. “It’s revenge,” he said, solemnly. 

Anthony sighed. Instead of answering, he wrapped Aziraphale in his arms and held him close to his chest.

“It’s okay Angel,” he said. “It’ll be alright.”

“I just wish I could remember,” Aziraphale said, bitterly. 

“It’ll come,” Anthony said. “We already got one memory down at least.”

“One down, a million more to go,” Aziraphale said, sarcastically.

“They’ll come back,” Anthony said with conviction. “Just not all at once, hopefully I mean,” he added.

“Hopefully,” Aziraphale agreed, thinking back to the splitting headache he had gotten after just recovering one memory. 

“Let’s try again tomorrow,” Anthony said. 

“Oh alright, tomorrow then,” Aziraphale said, lying down and snuggling close to Anthony under the weight of the covers. 

Anthony hummed in response, lying down right next to him and running his fingers gently through Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale fell asleep quickly, comforted by Anthony’s gentle touch.

***

Aziraphale had a horrible creeping feeling that something was wrong. He felt as if he was both inside of his body, but also outside of it as well all at the same time. There was no sound where he was, but there was a terrible sense of dread. 

There were many people around him, but he couldn’t make out their faces other than the impression of their clothes, all white. So much terrible white. Aziraphale both watched himself and felt himself grip the handle of a sword tightly in his hand. It was a strange sensation. Looking at his body as an outsider while also feeling the warm handle of the blade.

Aziraphale could feel the warmth of a flame licking at his sides. The blade was now ablaze, although the heat caused him no pain. Despite having a weapon in hand, Aziraphale felt frozen in place, feeling no need to join in on the ensuing battle. The fighting was blurred and distant, but Aziraphale felt the same sense of horror and unease deep in his gut. 

He felt like he stood there frozen in place for an age as he witnessed the blurred destruction all around him before the scene slowly began to fade. Aziraphale couldn’t have been more glad to see it go. 

Aziraphale woke with a start. He sat up quickly in bed and looked around the room. Anthony was still asleep next to him. The room was dark with shadow, although some weak light shone in through the cracks of the locked doorway.

Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath. His chest still felt tight from his unsettling nightmare. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a rattled sigh. He took care to leave the bed carefully so as not to wake Anthony and crept carefully to the bathroom.

Aziraphale left the door to the bathroom open to let a little more of the light in the room and to avoid the hinges from creaking. The bathroom was even darker than the bedroom. Aziraphale had to strain his eyes to see anything. He would look through the manor for a candle, or a lantern for a little bit of light, if he had not already torn apart the manor to no avail all of those months ago.

Aziraphale turned on the tap to a low yet steady slow of water and took out a floral smelling soap in the cabinet. He splashed the cold water on his face and then lathered the soap, scrubbing his face roughly before rinsing again with cold water.

By the time he was finished he felt distinctly more refreshed, and the tight feeling in his chest faded as he felt more grounded. His nightmare seemed far less threatening than when he had first woken up.

He brushed his teeth as quietly as he could before tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Anthony made a snuffling noise over from the bed and moved around under the covers before settling again. 

Aziraphale dressed quietly, and was just closing the wardrobe door and putting on his shoes when he heard Anthony move around again on the bed. Aziraphale glanced over and saw Anthony poke his head through the covers and sleepily look around the room. A gesture that was almost human, despite his serpentine body, before he spotted Aziraphale stood across the room.

He hissed out a greeting and slithered out of the bed and onto the floor. Together they went about their day as normal, save for keeping a careful eye out for their mysterious enemy. Aziraphale went about his day calmly, but his dream always lingered at the back of his mind. Anthony must have noticed something amiss, because every now and again he’d shoot Aziraphale a careful look.

It was only after the sun had set and the both of them were safe in the master bedroom after Anthony changed back into a man again, did he finally say something. 

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

Aziraphale sighed, grasping the sheets tightly in his hands. “I had a strange dream last night,” he confessed. 

“A dream?” Anthony asked.

“Yes it felt a bit, real, somehow,” Aziraphale explained, haltingly. 

“Do you think it was a memory?” Anthony asked.

“It must have been,” Aziraphale said. “Although I had hoped that it wasn’t.”

“Why?” Anthony asked.

“It was just so awful,” Aziraphale began. “All of the devastation. I couldn’t hear anything, could barely see anything too, but everything just felt so wrong.”

“You don’t have to think of it if you don’t want to,” Anthony said.

“No it’s alright,” Aziraphale said. “It’s on my mind whether I want it to be or not,” he said.

“I’m sorry Angel,” Anthony said, sympathetically. 

“That’s alright, it’s not your fault,” Aziraphale assured him. “It’s just, I think I was on a battlefield,” he started. 

Anthony inhaled a sharp breath.

“You know this one?” Aziraphale guessed. 

“Yes,” Anthony said. “Terrible times.”

“Well I couldn’t make out much, just people fighting.” Aziraphale said. “Oh, and I had a sword, it was on fire,” he added. 

“You remembered the flaming sword?” Anthony asked, incredulously.

“Should I not have?” Aziraphale asked.

“No, I’m just surprised is all,” Anthony answered.

“Why was it on fire anyway?” Aziraphale wondered. “Besides being magic obviously.”

“Obviously,” Anthony parroted, a bit breathlessly.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked.

“No, I mean yes, go on,” Anthony said.

“Well I didn’t remember much else,” Aziraphale admitted. “Well, and that everyone was wearing white.”

“Of course,” Anthony said, sounding a bit dazed.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Aziraphale asked again.

“Fine,” Anthony insisted. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said, dubiously. “Well anyway, I’m not sure why I had a sword that was on fire of all things in the first place, and frankly I’m not sure if I want to know,” he said. 

Anthony made a strangled sort of noise.

“Oh come now Anthony what is it?” Aziraphale asked finally. “You can tell me.”

Anthony sighed heavily. 

“Unless you can’t,” Aziraphale suddenly realized. 

“Correct,” Anthony admitted.

Aziraphale thought quickly of the implications of that. “Anthony, were you there too?” he asked, making an educated guess. 

Anthony let out a tired breath. “Yes,” he admitted, quietly. 

“Why?” Aziraphale asked. “Wait never mind, I suppose you can’t tell me that yet.”

“No, I can’t.” Anthony confirmed.

“Bloody hell,” Aziraphale cursed, causing Anthony to let out a small laugh. “What a mess.” 

“Indeed,” Anthony agreed. 

“What on earth was I doing on a battlefield anyway?” Aziraphale asked, irritably. “With a bloody sword and who knows what else!” he exclaimed. “Terrible business, war.”

“Terrible,” Anthony agreed. 

He still sounded a bit strange to Aziraphale’s ears. Aziraphale considered one possible reason for that. “You weren’t, I mean, were you hurt in the fighting then?” he asked, carefully. 

“Angel,” Anthony said solemnly. “Yes, in a few ways.” 

“You’re not still hurt are you?” Aziraphale asked with alarm. 

“In some ways, yes,” Anthony said, sadly.

Aziraphale’s heart ached to hear it. “I didn’t-” he began. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, trembling with fear.

“No of course you didn’t,” Anthony explained, quickly.

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale breathed in relief. Then he had another thought. “Were we on different sides?” he realized.

“Yes,” Anthony confirmed, causing Aziraphale’s heart to sink down to his stomach. “That’s-” he started at a loss for words. “That’s awful.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Anthony said.

“It’s still horrible,” Aziraphale countered. “Well I guess we didn’t let any of that stop us from being friends.”

“Friends?” Anthony asked, lightly.

“Well that and something a little more,” Aziraphale said, bashfully.

“I never cared much for fighting myself,” Anthony said.

“I didn’t think you would,” Aziraphale admitted. “I can’t imagine I did either.”

“You didn’t,” Anthony confirmed.

“Horrible business all round,” Aziraphale said. “Let’s talk about something else now, shall we?”

Anthony seemed eager to drop the subject of war, and Aziraphale let him lead another conversation about the state of the garden and the effects the coming winter would have on the plants. They went back to sleep soon after, and Aziraphale hoped to not dream something so terrible ever again. 

Aziraphale spent the next few days spending time with Anthony, tending to his garden and mulling over the implications of his latest dream. Aziraphale didn’t like the idea of getting caught up in a war of all things, him or Anthony. He couldn’t imagine participating of his own free will, memory or no memory. 

Aziraphale paused from where he was harvesting carrots in his garden. And that was the scariest thought of them all, being dragged to fight in a war he knew he would have wanted no part in. Even just the idea of hurting others, he shuddered to think of it.

Aziraphale felt Anthony’s curious eyes on him from where he enjoyed a small spot of sunshine some feet away. Aziraphale hastened to pretend to inspect the carrots he had just pulled out of the ground and made a show out of inspecting them closely. 

Aziraphale was able to banish his depressing thoughts for the remainder of the day as he prepared a dinner of pork cutlets, roast honey and garlic carrots fresh from the garden. He was quite proud of his work this time. The pork had come out perfectly. According to the recipe book that he had consulted, it was very easy to overcook. Instead, the meat came out nice and soft out of the oven, instead of tough and chewy, causing Aziraphale some relief.

Aziraphale had just finished setting the table when Anthony came back inside from the garden and strengthening the wards.

“Dinner’s ready,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony crawled over to the table curiously and climbed into his usual seat. Aziraphale went to serve him some meat, but paused once noticing Anthony’s hesitation. 

“Is something the matter?” he asked, as Anthony gazed at the table. 

Anthony shook his head and hissed in response, floating a generous serving of roast carrots onto his plate. He made no move to give himself some pork, however, and Aziraphale hesitated to serve it to him. Instead, he placed a cutlet only on his own plate as he watched Anthony carefully.

“Do you not like pork?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony tilted his head and let out a dubious hissing noise that Aziraphale couldn't interpret. Confused, Aziraphale poured him a generous serving of white wine, room temperature this time, into his special drinking bowl instead.

The pork was very good, well seasoned and soft to bite into. Anthony dug into his serving of carrots with a gusto, but Aziraphale was still worried. Anthony loved eating meat, after all. 

Aziraphale helped himself to a glass of wine as well, and then drank another for good measure. He finished his meal well after Anthony did. He was just about to get up from the table to clean up before Anthony beat him to it. With a flick of his tail the dishes and food disappeared from the table, leaving only a spotless white tablecloth behind. The food and plates presumably tidied and placed back into the icebox and cupboards respectively.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Aziraphale said with a smile. 

Anthony hissed in response, unrepentant, causing a small smile to grow on Aziraphale’s face. They spent the remainder of the daylight hours in the sitting room before retiring back to the master bedroom for the evening. 

It was only after Aziraphale had woken up again in the night and Anthony had transformed back, did Aziraphale find the courage to ask Anthony the question that had been on his mind all night. 

“Are you allergic to pork?” Aziraphale asked.

“No,” Anthony said. “I just don’t eat it myself.” 

“Don’t care for the taste then?” Aziraphale pressed.

“Not sure, never tried it myself,” Anthony replied. 

“Really,” Aziraphale said in surprise. “How come?”

“Curious are we?” Anthony said. 

“A little,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“I don’t eat pork at all because it’s not kosher,” Anthony answered.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Erm, I’m not sure what that is.”

“That’s okay, you used to,” Anthony said. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said again, feeling a little pang of regret in his heart. 

“I’m not super strict about it like some people are,” Anthony admitted, almost regretfully. “But pig is pretty much the only thing I won’t eat.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said, slowly beginning to understand.

“I’m not kosher too am I?” Aziraphale wondered suddenly. The thought of not being able to eat bacon alone was a bit much for him.

“You don’t keep kosher,” Anthony corrected. 

“I didn’t think I would have,” Aziraphale agreed. “Especially not after tonight’s dinner.”

“Definitely not,” Anthony laughed. 

Aziraphale smiled at the sound of his laughter, even if Anthony couldn’t see it in the dark. “So is kosher a cultural thing?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yes, among other things,” Anthony said. “It has uh, religious connotations mostly. Nearly entirely religious actually,” he said the last part quietly, almost like he was afraid of what Aziraphale might think. 

“Well,” Aziraphale said, carefully. “I won’t be cooking any bacon tomorrow then.”

“You can if you like,” Anthony said.

“No,” Aziraphale waved him off. “All of that grease flying out of the pan is a nightmare anyway. We can have sausages and omelettes tomorrow instead.”

“I’d like that,” Anthony said with a smile in his voice.

The next couple of days passed uneventfully. Aziraphale harvested most of his broccoli crop soon after the carrots, as the majority of the crop was fully ripe for harvest, save for a few stragglers. 

Aziraphale went back to the library during the day, pulling out some more books for him to pour over purely for the pleasure of it. He read through different books by Shakespeare, ‘A Merchant of Venice,’ and ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ He greatly enjoyed Romeo and Juliet, in a way seeing the parallels between him and Anthony, with the thought of them being on two separate sides of a conflict, save for the teenage melodrama.

After finishing Shakespeare’s plays, he moved onto reading ‘White Fang’ by Jack London and then ‘Leaves of Grass,’ by Walt Whitman after that. The only thing that bothered Aziraphale about his reading was that there just wasn’t enough daylight hours to enjoy his books as much as he was used to during the warmer months. 

Aziraphale scowled at his book one evening, the light from the fire in the sitting room barely enough for him to make out the words on the page. The sun hadn’t even fully set yet, or Anthony would shuffle them back into the bedroom for safety. Despite this, the shadows from where he and Anthony sat in the living room had already begun to grow considerably. 

Anthony made a low hissing noise from his left. Aziraphale turned to see him looking curiously at him and then the book he clutched in his hands. 

“Not much light in here,” Aziraphale complained lightly, while closing his book. “Might be time to turn in soon.”

Anthony nodded in understanding and led Aziraphale down the hall and back into their bedroom. Autumn days moved slowly on as Aziraphale and Anthony tried to fall into a pattern of semi-normalcy with the threat of their enemy being able to attack again at any time hanging over their heads. 

Anthony wasn’t as keen to leave Aziraphale alone as much without throwing up a few extra wards before he went, and he only did that to quickly go around the property to check in on the security around the manor. 

Aziraphale was certainly happy for the company. He felt safer with Anthony near. It was just frustrating to constantly be anticipating another attack. By the end of each day Aziraphale felt significantly drained and tense from having to maintain a constant level of vigilance. 

Anthony wasn’t much better. He looked more and more fatigued as the days went on, most likely the strain of maintaining so many wards around the manor. Despite Anthony’s precautions, wandering around the manor always came with a certain threat of danger. The only place that Aziraphale felt entirely safe was the master bedroom.

He wasn’t sure why exactly until Anthony explained that it was the most heavily warded place in the house. Anthony said he seeped the most energy and effort into keeping the room safe. 

“Since we’re unconscious for most of the time,” Anthony had explained.

Still, it was difficult for Aziraphale to see the strain that Anthony endured in order to keep them both safe. They didn’t talk about it much, mostly because there was nothing new to say and nothing to be done about it except continue to do what they could to break the spell. The encroaching time limit of the seasons turning against them with daylight slowly fading a little bit sooner each day didn’t help matters either. The fact that the growing darkness helped their enemy was even worse.

“Try not to think about it,” Anthony had advised him when Aziraphale finally mentioned his fears one night. “Let’s just focus on getting your memories back Angel, one thing at a time.” 

“You’re right,” Aziraphale had said. 

Of course that was easier said than done. Aziraphale hadn’t recovered any new memories, now matter how much he tried to meditate on them. Anthony was still trying to think up a way to trigger another memory around the limitations of the spell he was under. In a sense, they were both stuck, in more ways than one.

Aziraphale tried not to dwell on that fact too much, because dwelling led to melancholy, and his sour moods caused Anthony to worry and fuss over him. Despite Aziraphale’s lack of progress on gaining new memories, all of his quiet reflection had reaped one benefit. The thought came to him one day, and he shared it with Anthony that same night as soon as he was able.

“Do you think I’ll be able to get my magic back?” Aziraphale asked Anthony tentatively that night. 

“Yes,” Anthony answered immediately. “Why, do you think that you won’t?”

“I hope I will,” Aziraphale answered. “I guess that I’m not as uh, certain as you,” he said.

“Don’t lose hope Angel,” Anthony said. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale agreed, warmed by Anthony’s concern. “I won’t.”

“Are you sure?” Anthony asked.

“Yes. If you think that I’ll get my magic back, then I believe it too,” Aziraphale said.

“Well, if that’s all,” Anthony said.

“I did have another thought though,” Aziraphale added. “Stop me if you think I’m wrong.”

“Okay,” Anthony said.

“Do you think, well I mean-” Aziraphale waffled a bit. “Do you think me not having my memories and not having my magic are, I don’t know, connected somehow?”

Aziraphale had stunned Anthony into silence. 

“I’m not sure, it’s possible yes,” Anthony admitted.

“It’s just, you might be forced to be a snake during the day, which is still terrible,” Aziraphale hastened to say. “But you can still do magic, I’m the only one who can’t.”

“I see what you mean,” Anthony said.

“Right? Well maybe there’s a reason for that.” Aziraphale said. “This is just a guess obviously, but what if me not having my memories is causing me to not have my magic as well?”

“Hmm,” Anthony hummed in thought. “That might be true,” he said in surprise.

“Do you really think?” Aziraphale asked, eagerly.

“I don’t see why not,” Anthony answered. “It would certainly help if we could get your power and your memories back at the same time.”

“Well that settled it then,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll just get both of them back, and then we might be able to break the spell.”

“I know you can do it Angel,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale felt his chest warm with love at Anthony’s belief in him. “Well, all that’s left for now is to just do it.” Aziraphale said. 

“We still have time,” Anthony assured him. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

“We will, won’t we?” Aziraphale said with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is done. I hope you're all enjoying it as usual. Let me know what you all think.


	21. Chapter 21

It was only a few days after Anthony’s assurance that he and Aziraphale could break the spell, did everything fall apart. Aziraphale had just come back inside from tending his garden one late morning when he saw it. There, sitting on the kitchen table, was a long white candle and candlestick holder, and a nondescript box of striking matches.

Aziraphale grinned when he saw it. Finally, something to light! He picked up the candlestick and candlestick holder and inspected them closely. The candle itself was simple enough. The wax was nice and smooth, and the wick was thin and long, easy for catching a flame.

The candlestick holder itself was much finer. It glittered golden in the sunlight, made from a fine gold ore. There was a loop at the end of it for a few fingers to comfortably fit through to hold it upright.

“Lovely,” Aziraphale said to himself, after inspecting it thoroughly.

Anthony must have been sick of hearing all of Aziraphale’s recent grumbling about the lack of light while he read. After so many months without a lantern or decent light to read by, one small candle filled Aziraphale with an unspeakable joy.

Aziraphale waffled a bit whether or not to use his new light in the sitting room or the bedroom to read with later, but he eventually settled on the master bedroom. It was much darker in there after all.

He met Anthony again on the way back to the kitchen. Anthony came in from the garden, looking fatigued from strengthening the wards again. His exhaustion made Aziraphale’s earlier cheer dampen just a bit. 

“Feeling alright?” he asked, looking Anthony over with a critical eye. 

Anthony waved his concern away with a decisive flick of his tail.

“Well alright,” Aziraphale said, still concerned. 

They spent the rest of the day as normal, Aziraphale making headway with his latest book and Anthony passed out on the chaise lounge until the light of day began to fade. For once, Aziraphale didn’t grumble to see it go. 

“I think I’ll read more in the bedroom,” he said, placing a bookmark in between the pages to mark his place.

Anthony looked at him briefly before flicking his tail in a manner that might have been a shrug. Anthony and Aziraphale made their way back to their bedroom without any trouble or anything lurking in the shadows.

Aziraphale washed up and dressed in his nightclothes in the near dark, wanting to save the candle he had gotten exclusively for reading. Anthony obviously liked keeping the bedroom dark while they slept, he reasoned. Not that Aziraphale could have blamed him. This was his room first before Aziraphale wandered into the manor after all.

Still, Aziraphale was already plotting a way to get Anthony to install some other forms of lighting in the bedroom and bathroom as well, while he was at it. At the very least, Aziraphale would like to not trip over himself in the dark while he changed or used the bathroom. 

Aziraphale put his latest book on the nightstand earlier where he could crawl comfortably into bed. He sighed in at the feel of the soft sheets around him. 

“Perfect,” he smiled to himself.

Anthony let out a small questioning hiss and crawled into the covers after him. 

“It’s a lovely night,” Aziraphale said, answering Anthony’s wordless question. 

Aziraphale moved towards the side table in order to reach his book and candle but as the shadows grew in the room he found himself suddenly hit with a familiar sensation. Aziraphale was nearly bowled over by the quick and powerful feeling of intense fatigue.

“Ugh,” he was able to groan out before he passed out into a deep sleep.

It was later in the night when Aziraphale woke again with a dry mouth that only accompanied a long deep sleep.

“Why is it always like this?” he said irritably to himself in frustration.

“Like what?” Anthony asked him. 

“Why is it always so impossible to stay awake?” Aziraphale asked. “Is it the bed?” he wondered, feeling the soft mattress under the curious press of his palms.

Anthony didn’t comment on his irritated grumbling. 

“Well never mind that,” Aziraphale sighed, turning back to the task at hand.

One good thing about his surprise sleep was that now Aziraphale felt perfectly awake and well rested. 

“Do you mind if I do a bit of reading now?” Aziraphale asked Anthony, suddenly realizing he might rather go to sleep in the dark.

“What?” Anthony said.

“You don’t mind if I do a bit of reading do you?” he asked again.

“Not usually, no?” Anthony said in confusion.

“Alright then,” Aziraphale said, a bit puzzled by Anthony’s tone. He was soon distracted however by the thought of finishing his book and not having to wait another day to do it.

Aziraphale leaned over the side of the bed again and started moving his hand blindly for his book. He felt his hands touch glass and soon after he heard the sound of his empty water cup go clattering onto the floor. 

“Angel?” Anthony said curiously.

“Nothing, just tipped something over,” Aziraphale answered.

It took some maneuvering but finally his hand hit the familiar feeling of his book and the matchbox he placed atop of it earlier. He moved again grabbing the candle and candlestick holder that he had placed near them soon after. Thankful to not have pitched any of them onto the floor, Aziraphale opened the matchbox that he placed in his lap and felt around for a stick inside of it.

“Have something there?” Anthony asked curiously.

“Of course,” Aziraphale answered. “I need to be able to see to do some reading tonight.”

“Well yes, but that might be a bit difficult now,” Anthony pointed out.

“Well in hindsight, I should have prepared beforehand,” Aziraphale said, not realizing until now that it might be a bit difficult striking a match in perfect darkness. 

Aziraphale finally managed to grab a match and feel around for the match head, using his fingertip to discern the right end. He felt around the box to find the rough part that he would use to strike the match.

“Prepared what?” Anthony asked.

“My reading light obviously,” Aziraphale said.

“You’re what?” Anthony asked, incredulously. 

Aziraphale frowned at the tone. “Surely you remember,” he said. 

Aziraphale had just about figured out the right ends of the match and tinder box to light the flame when a sudden thought occurred to him. It might not be the safest thing to strike a lit flame in bed where the sheets could catch fire. 

“Drat,” Aziraphale muttered. 

“Angel,” Anthony started, his voice sounding strained and causing Aziraphale to lift his head towards the sound of his voice in alarm. 

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked.

“I need you to understand something,” Anthony said. “How are you going to read right now?”

Aziraphale startled at the question. “What do you mean how?” he said. “With the candle you gave me of course.”

A heavy silence fell, the only sound breaking through it was a quick and sharp inhale of breath by Anthony. 

“Anthony, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, growing more nervous.

“Angel, I never gave you a candle,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale felt a jolt in his chest. “What do you mean?” he asked, feeling the match and tinderbox tremble in his hands. “I have it right here.”

“I know,” Anthony said calmly. “But I didn’t give it to you.”

Aziraphale sat there, stunned. “Then who gave me this?” He asked, waving the hand holding the matchbox in the air.

“I think we both know,” Anthony answered simply. 

“But, why?” Aziraphale asked. “Why would they give me a candle of all things?” 

Anthony didn’t reply. 

“Anthony, talk to me,” Aziraphale begged.

“I wish I could say,” Anthony replied.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me the spell won’t let you say,” Aziraphale groaned.

“I know you can figure it out,” Anthony said, gently.

“Ugh,” Aziraphale grumbled. “All I wanted to do is read my book. I didn’t know it’d be such a production.” 

“Remind me not to get in between you and your books,” Anthony laughed. 

“Too right,” Aziraphale agreed. He sighed again and took the candle and matchbox back to the end table.

“I suppose I can’t read in the bedroom now then,” he sighed. Aziraphale rubbed his face with one hand, pulling the skin and massaging his face roughly. “Why a candle of all things?” he asked aloud.

Anthony waited patiently while Aziraphale worked through the problem. 

“A candle to light in the dark,” he muttered aloud. “Do they want me to be able to see through all of this blasted dark?” he said irritably in exasperation. 

Anthony sucked in another sharp breath.

“Please don’t tell me that’s it?” Aziraphale asked, desperately.

“It’s not it,” Anthony replied sarcastically, but Aziraphale could detect the underlying humor in his voice. 

“Excuse my language, but bloody hell, why?” Aziraphale exclaimed. “All I wanted to do is read my book and not have to dress in complete darkness, is that so much to ask?”

“It’s not,” Anthony agreed, sympathetically.

“Unbelievable,” Aziraphale moaned. “I’m going to find out whoever did this to us and make whomever’s responsible pay.”

“Whomever?” Anthony laughed, emphasizing the ‘whom.’

“Don’t you start,” Aziraphale warned.

“Such wonderful grammar,” Anthony teased.

“Well, reading can be beneficial in many ways,” Aziraphale said. “Never mind that though, I need to think.”

“Think away,” Anthony conceded. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He thought of the candle that their enemy had given him and of the pitch black that surrounded them both. Their enemy wanted Aziraphale to see through the dark. He didn’t know why they wanted that, but they did.

Aziraphale thought back to the little things he noticed in the last several months living at the manor, how there were never any candles or lanterns, or any other portable methods of light. The only thing that he could think of that helped light up a room was the fireplace in the sitting room.

“There’s no other lights in the manor,” Aziraphale said. “None that I can take with me anyway.”

“Yes,” Anthony said. 

“The only one I can think of is the fireplace in the sitting room-hang on,” Aziraphale said. “We have a fireplace here too,” he realized.

“We do,” Anthony said uneasily. 

“It’s been cold lately, is there some special reason why it’s never lit,” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony was silent but his silence was an answer to Aziraphale all on its own.

“You don’t want the fireplace lit in the bedroom, do you?” he asked.

“No, I don’t,” Anthony agreed. 

Aziraphale felt his heart begin to race. “You don’t want light in the bedroom. You don’t have any lights in the manor on purpose,” he realized.

“Yes,” Anthony agreed.

“But why?” Aziraphale asked, baffled. “What’s so important here to be kept in the dark?”

Anthony didn’t answer. 

“I’ve already seen the room during the day, is there something hidden-” he stopped midway through speaking, coming to a sudden terrifying realization all at once. “Anthony,” Aziraphale started. “Am I not supposed to see you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Anthony answered quietly.

“Why!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “That’s-that doesn’t make any sense!”

“Angel-” Anthony began.

“Why can’t I see you, will something happen if I do?” he asked, feeling his heart beat wildly in his chest in panic. 

“It’s okay,” Anthony soothed him.

“Is that why it’s so dark in here all the time?” Aziraphale asked. “Is it so I can’t see you?”

“Yes, it is,” Anthony admitted.

“But why?” Aziraphale asked. “Why all of this secrecy, I just don’t understand.”

“You’re almost there,” Anthony said. “You’re so close Angel.”

“So I really am not able to see you,” Aziraphale realized. “I’m not supposed to see you when you’re transformed back, is that it?”

“Yes,” Anthony said, sounding relieved. “That’s it exactly.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Aziraphale said, helplessly. “Will something bad happen if I do?”

“Yes, you’re correct completely,” Anthony said.

“Oh my goodness, why,” Aziraphale groaned, burying his face into his hands in frustration.

“Why, did you think I was just shy?” Anthony teased.

“A little, maybe, I don’t know, I didn’t think much of it,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“It’s okay,” Anthony said.

“So you keep saying,” Aziraphale sighed.

“This will all make sense one day, I promise,” Anthony said, seriously. 

“Yes well, somehow I don’t think that day is today,” Aziraphale said.

“We still have time,” Anthony assured him.

“Oh, the time limit,” Aziraphale groaned again. “I nearly forgot about that.” 

“It’s okay, we’ve come so far already, don’t give up hope now Angel,” Anthony said with conviction, taking both of Aziraphale’s hands into his.

“Fine, I won’t then,” Aziraphale said. “I just wish I knew why I can’t see you, I-” he cut himself off.

“You-” Anthony prompted.

“I just wish I could see your face,” Aziraphale confessed.

“Oh,” Anthony said, teasingly.

“Yes, obviously,” Aziraphale blushed.

“You will Angel, just give it time,” Anthony said.

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, quietly.

Anthony’s words stuck in Aziraphale’s mind for the rest of the night and then the following day after. Time was something that he and Anthony might very well be running out of. Aziraphale looked around the garden that following morning as he tended to his crops, many of which were nearly ready for harvest.

How much time did they have left truly? By now, all of the leaves on the trees in the garden had shed their vibrant greens for warmer colors of orange, yellow, and red. Some had even begun to fall from the tree branches and colored the floor below.

It was only a matter of time before the weather grew colder and the night longer. How much longer until autumn faded away for winter? How much longer until their enemy’s strength and wit grew until the both of them were overwhelmed. 

Aziraphale clutched at a handful of earth beneath his gloved hands from where he had been disposing of weeds with a vengeance. He slowly relaxed his tight shaking grip to where the loose dirt clinging to the roots of the weeds grasped in his hand fell to the ground. It felt too much like the sands of time were slipping away from him. 

Anthony let out a worried hiss from where he lay on the ground just a few short feet away from him. He looked over Aziraphale. Aziraphale tried to give Anthony a reassuring look, but judging by Anthony’s glare, it wasn’t very successful. 

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale said. “Just have a lot to think about is all.”

Anthony nodded slowly. Aziraphale went about the remainder of the day as wall as he could while letting his thoughts wander about how he could break Anthony’s spell, and the new implications of everything that he had just learned. He didn’t come to any breakthrough until later that night when another thought occurred to him. 

“Anthony, are you the one who makes the room so dark?” he asked.

“Yes,” Anthony confessed. 

“And the spell where I fall asleep right away?” Aziraphale pressed, thinking back to all of the times he suddenly felt exhausted in bed no explanation. 

“Yes,” Anthony said again.

“What a mess,” Aziraphale groaned. “I suppose that was done so that I wouldn’t see you by accident?”

“You’re so clever Angel,” Anthony said. 

“Well I try to be,” Aziraphale said, bashfully. “Of course that doesn’t answer the question of what happens if I do see you,” Aziraphale said.

“I try not to think about it,” Anthony said.

“So you do know,” Aziraphale said. “It’s that bad isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately,” Anthony said, solemnly. 

“Just to make sure, you can’t tell me what will happen can you?” Aziraphale asked.

“No,” Anthony confirmed. 

“Drat,” Aziraphale grumbled.

“Want to read your books that badly?” Anthony laughed.

“Among other things,” Aziraphale said, meaningfully. 

They dropped the subject for the rest of the night and discussed other things like the state of Aziraphale’s garden, or Anthony’s efforts to prepare the rest of the grounds for the coming winter. Neither mentioned their encroaching time limit, or their enemy’s growing strength and attempts to sabotage them both. 

The candle debacle had truly unnerved Aziraphale. Before he was just being pushed around and physically attacked. It was horrible and frightening, but this recent plot gave him pause. Their enemy was becoming more cunning. If Anthony hadn’t cottoned onto Aziraphale’s new ‘gift’, then everything would have been ruined. There was just so much that Aziraphale didn’t know. He was tired of not knowing and tired of being left in the dark.

Aziraphale kept his mind open as he went about his daily routine. He tried to go over in his head new ideas for breaking all of the spells they were under. Aziraphale’s missing memory, Anthony not being able to speak of their past or share whatever information he was privy to, Anthony being forced to be a snake during daylight, their not being able to leave the manor, and most of all, whatever mysterious enchantment Anthony was under that would make the unthinkable happen if Aziraphale saw Anthony at night. 

There was just so much for Aziraphale to contend with. So much was at stake that it was nearly completely overwhelming. As each Autumn day passed by, Aziraphale felt his dread slowly grow. Anthony had so much faith in him. Aziraphale didn’t want to let him down.

Anthony must have sensed his anxiety because he crawled over to where Aziraphale was kneeling in the garden and placed his head in his lap. Aziraphale let out a heavy breath and ran his hand up and down Anthony’s head. 

“It’s all a bit much sometimes, isn’t it?” he asked Anthony.

Anthony gazed at him with his wonderful golden eyes. 

Time passed ever forward. The remainder of Aziraphale’s crops finally grew to full ripeness. He spent several days harvesting and storing the majority of his crops. Days flew by quickly after that, and then weeks. He and Anthony tried every night to brainstorm ways to regain Aziraphale’s memories, but many nights went by without much to show for it. 

Anthony was good to Aziraphale though. He was careful to crack jokes and ask about Aziraphale’s interests every night in order to keep his spirits up. Aziraphale’s heart warmed at Anthony’s kindness, but even that wasn’t enough to chase away the ice cold terror slowly growing in Aziraphale’s heart. There was just too much at stake. 

The air grew cooler and as time went on, every last leaf fell from the trees. The dew that normally covered the grounds in the early mornings gave way to a thin layer of frost that crunched underneath Aziraphale’s boots when he and Anthony moved around the garden. Anthony began to look more and more lethargic as the temperature dropped. 

At one point, Aziraphale decided to put an end to the morning walks for how truly miserable Anthony seemed to be in the cold weather. He remembered Anthony’s cold blood and his aversion to cold weather. Being out in the cold couldn’t have been good for him. 

Nights were even worse. Not only did the daylight fade much faster, but nights were bitterly cold as well. Aziraphale shivered under the blankets that night, even after adding another beautiful knitted blanket to the bedspread that he had unearthed from the linen closet. 

Aziraphale huddled underneath the covers next to Anthony, not wanting to move and encounter a cold spot on the bed.

“Somehow I don’t think I’m going to like winter very much,” Aziraphale mumbled from where his face was pressed into Anthony’s chest.

He felt the rumble of Anthony’s laugh. “Me too,” he agreed.

“It’s just going to get colder now too,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Hmm,” Anthony hummed thoughtfully.

“Well the sooner I break your spell, the sooner we can light the fireplace in here,” Aziraphale said, holding Anthony tightly.

“I think I have an even better idea instead,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale was just about to ask what he meant by that when he felt a strange warm lump appear by his feet. Aziraphale probed it with his feet tentatively. He felt the hot press of a solid metal figure that was so warm it nearly burned his skin. He curled his legs closer to him in alarm.

“What is that thing?” he asked.

“A hot water bottle,” Anthony laughed. “It’ll keep the bed warm all night.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Well good.” 

“Do you like it?” Anthony asked.

“It is a bit cozy,” Aziraphale admitted. 

Already the bed had begun to warm and chase away the cold. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Anthony said quietly. 

Aziraphale’s heart swelled in response. “What would I do without you?” he asked.

“Freeze,” Anthony replied, easily.

“Come here,” Aziraphale said, rising from his place on top of Anthony’s chest and leaning closer towards his face. 

Anthony met him halfway and they shared a tender kiss. Aziraphale sighed at the soft press of Anthony’s lips against his own. 

“Come closer,” Anthony said after Aziraphale pulled away a bit to readjust himself to lie completely on top of him. 

“Are you sure that it’s not too fast for you?” Aziraphale teased.

Anthony didn’t reply, instead he chose to yank Aziraphale by the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a breathtaking kiss. The kiss quickly turned heavy. Aziraphale moaned at the feel of his tongue. He shuddered as Anthony scraped his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair just shy of too rough. They kissed for so long that Aziraphale began to feel dazed and his body overheated. He felt a hot jolt of pleasure when Anthony chose to tilt his hips upwards towards Aziraphale’s own.

“Angel, we can’t-” Anthony groaned, breaking their frantic kiss. 

“Goodness, why?” Aziraphale gasped.

“Because-ugh, many reasons,” Anthony said, pushing Aziraphale away lightly. 

Aziraphale beat down a wave of hurt. But he told himself that just because Anthony didn’t want to continue, it didn't mean he didn't care. 

“Fine,” Aziraphale said, while rolling off of Anthony.

“I’m sorry-” Anthony started.

“Don’t be,” Aziraphale interrupted him. “I’m being an ass, ignore me.”

“Impossible,” Anthony answered.

“So you say,” Aziraphale countered. “Never mind all that though, let’s just go to bed.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Anthony asked.

“Yes, just frustrated I guess,” Aziraphale sighed. “I’ll be fine by morning.”

“Alright then,” Anthony said, dubiously.

The two of them went to sleep. Days passed as quickly as ever. Anthony and Aziraphale spent time together as usual. Occasionally at night time things would get heated between them, but when Anthony asked them to stop, Aziraphale didn’t argue. His comfort was important to Aziraphale. If he didn’t feel comfortable continuing, then Aziraphale wouldn’t press the issue.

Still, some nights it was harder to find the strength to pull away. It was so easy for Aziraphale to lose himself in Anthony’s gentle yet firm touches and the heat of his kiss. Some nights Anthony pulled away, but there were a few times where Aziraphale decided they would stop for the night, not only out of respect for Anthony, but also to calm his own racing heart.

“I think we tend to get a bit carried away,” Aziraphale gasped one night after they broke apart.

“Maybe a little,” Anthony admitted. 

And that had been that.

Aziraphale stepped outside the backdoor to the garden one morning with Anthony back snoozing by the fire in the sitting room, when he saw it. 

There was a thin fresh layer of frost and snow covering the entirety of the grounds. The sun had not yet fully risen, causing a blue film of light to color everything. There was soft powdered snow covering the bare branches of the trees and the ground where Aziraphale’s vegetable garden used to be. 

There was some quiet birdsong from the animals that did not venture south for the winter, but for the most part everything was quiet and hushed. It was a beautiful sight, and it’s beauty did nothing but fill Aziraphale with a creeping sense of terror. 

Winter had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter done! Here is the next chapter early as a treat. I'm making good headway with writing this fic lately and figured it would be alright to post a bit early. The usual schedule will be another chapter every two weeks but who knows, if I write a bit more I'm not opposed to posting early again so stay tuned. Winter is coming lol. Hope you guys are liking the fic as always.


	22. Chapter 22

Aziraphale closed the door to the garden in shock and shuffled quietly back into the kitchen. The room felt empty, cold both from the weather and Anthony’s absence. Unsettled, Aziraphale made his way into the sitting room with its comforting and warm fire and Anthony draped over the lounge, dead to the world. 

Aziraphale watched him sleep from the doorway, unable to look away. He was completely transfixed, carefully watching the rise and fall of Anthony’s long body with every breath. It must have been a long time until Anthony began to stir. He looked around the room sluggishly, then with a little bit of alarm. 

“I’m here, Aziraphale called from the doorway. 

Anthony peered at him over the back of the lounge and let out a hiss in greeting. Aziraphale approached him more closely. 

“It snowed outside,” he said simply.

Anthony startled a bit.

“That was my reaction too,” Aziraphale sighed. He moved over to his armchair and slumped heavily into it.

Anthony hissed in sympathy.

“What are we going to do?” Aziraphale asked, helplessly.

Anthony tilted his head.

“Any suggestions would be appreciated at this point,” Aziraphale said. “The situation just became a bit more dire, I think.”

Anthony didn’t say anything for a long time. He looked at Aziraphale, before turning towards the fire, deep in thought.

Aziraphale also looked into the fire, transfixed by its dancing flame. His mind wandered to nowhere in particular as he tried to settle down his rising panic. It was only when he heard Anthony’s excited hiss did he come out of his daze. He looked towards Anthony curiously, who was practically wiggling in excitement. 

“Thought of something then?” Aziraphale asked curiously.

Anthony nodded and slid off the lounge in one fluid motion that made Aziraphale almost a bit jealous for his grace. Anthony jerked his head towards the door in a gesture to get Aziraphale to follow. Aziraphale rose from his armchair and dutifully followed Anthony down the hall, up the stairwell leading up to the second floor and finally into the newly decorated study.

Aziraphale looked around the room and then to an excited looking Anthony in confusion.

“Is there something here then?” he asked. 

Anthony nodded in response. He crawled over to the other side of the room. He maneuvered around the desk at the end of the room and looked up at the crossed swords hung up on the wall. Aziraphale had nearly forgotten they had moved the decoration to the study after rearranging the billiard room. Truthfully, Aziraphale had Anthony throw the swords in this room because he saw himself using the study even less than he was interested in using the billiard room.

“Something about the swords then?” he guessed.

Anthony nodded. 

Aziraphale looked at the crossed swords, now restored and gleaming in the light shining in from the windows.

“I don’t understand,” he said, finally.

Anthony looked at him and then again to the swords. Calmly, he flicked his tail and separated one of the swords from the display and floated the sabre towards Aziraphale. 

“You want me to hold it?” he asked when it stopped mid-air right in front of him.

Anthony nodded.

Aziraphale nervously moved to grasp the sabre. It felt surprisingly light in his hands. He held it out in front of him gingerly, before looking back towards Anthony.

“Um, now what do I do?” he asked.

Anthony looked at the sword hanging loosely in Aziraphale’s hand and then started jerking his head side to side.

“You want me to swing this around?” Aziraphale asked in alarm.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically.

“You’re mad, that’s dangerous,” Aziraphale said, crossly.

Anthony looked at him with a flat stare. 

“Oh fine, but move back a bit more first,” Aziraphale said giving in.

Anthony eagerly backed up several feet. Aziraphale made sure he wasn’t in the way of Anthony or any of the furniture in the room before heaving a put upon sigh and bringing the sword closer to him.

It was just a regular if not decorative sabre. The blade was curved and the handle golden and short for a good tight grip. Aziraphale swished it around with a small frown. 

“Now what?” he asked Anthony. 

Anthony looked at him holding the sword with intensity. Right before Aziraphale was about to open his mouth and say something, Anthony flicked his tail again, and all of a sudden the sword was on fire.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale yelped, nearly dropping the damned thing.

Anthony let out a hiss in apology.

“I think I get what you’re trying to do now, but a warning would have been nice,” Aziraphale said, agitated.

The fire engulfing the sword was still burning merrily, the blade beneath it unharmed despite the heat. Aziraphale swung it around a bit more, careful not to swing too hard and have the air move the flames too close to his hands. 

“I don’t think this is working,” Aziraphale admitted, finally when no memory made itself known to him. He glanced at Anthony from the corner of his eye.

Anthony slumped a bit in defeat.

“Well, it was a rather good idea I think,” Aziraphale rushed to assure him.

Anthony tilted his head towards Aziraphale in acknowledgement. 

“I don’t think I care much for swords,” Aziraphale said, looking at the sword in his hands dubiously. 

Anthony let out a hiss that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“Who’d ever think of giving me a sword anyway?” Aziraphale muttered to himself, gazing at the flickering flame engulfing the sword.

Someone must have done, judging by the flaming sword he had in his last recovered memory. Anthony made another hissing sound, but suddenly it sounded rather far away. Aziraphale blinked rapidly, staring at the dancing flame covering the sword and feeling his vision fade out of focus.

The first thing he noticed when his vision cleared was that he was standing atop a large stone wall that towered over a sprawling desert. He was high above the ground, higher than he cared to be. He watched below him as the wind kicked up clouds of dust among rolling hills of sand.

“Aziraphale,” A voice echoed from all around him.

Aziraphale startled at the sound. It was strong and commanded all of his attention, coming from no direction in particular, echoing from all around him and strangely within him as well.

“Yes Lord?” he asked, responding to the powerful voice of a woman.

A beautiful warm light shone from above, more radiant and wonderful than sunlight. Aziraphale looked up at the light, but despite its beauty, all that he could feel once seeing it was dread. 

“I have a task for you Aziraphale,” the woman said.

“Right,” Aziraphale responded nervously. “Um, what is it?”

“Take my sword Aziraphale,” the woman commanded.

Out from the stream of light a long double edged sword that had been set aflame floated down towards him.

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, after staring at it hovering in front of him for a few long moments. He gingerly took it in hand.

“You have need of it again,” the voice said. “Use my sword to guard the eastern gate Aziraphale.”

“Right, of course,” Aziraphale said, inwardly balking at the idea.

The light faded and the thundering demand of her presence went with it.

Aziraphale sagged in relief at her departure. He turned away from the wall, facing the endless desert and back behind him. Enclosed within the massive wall that stretched on for miles was a beautiful array of green. There were dense thickets of trees and waterfalls and rivers inside. Aziraphale could hear the sound of birdsong carried by the wind, even so high up. The expanse of land below him was akin to a small country, for all of its splendid beauty.

Aziraphale glanced down at the flaming sword gripped in his hand and held as far away from him as possible. He sighed in despair. “Well shit.” 

The scene before him faded and blurred. Aziraphale came to flat on his back on the soft carpet of the office with an anxious Anthony hovering over him and a pounding headache. 

“I think it worked,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a pained garbled mess.

Anthony hissed anxiously.

“Could you please close the blinds?” Aziraphale whispered. His eyes squeezed shut with pain. 

In lieu of an answer, Anthony sent out a rush of warm healing magic, and Aziraphale suddenly felt his pain recede like the tide abandoning the shore.

“Much better,” Aziraphale breathed in relief, and gingerly moved to sit up.

Anthony continued to hover as Aziraphale sat up, looking him over for any other sign of injury. 

“I think that hurt a lot less the second time around,” Aziraphale joked.

Anthony shot him a heavy glare in response. 

“I think I’m done for the day,” Aziraphale groaned as he moved to stand up slowly, feeling his lower back twinge in protest.

Anthony nodded and led him carefully down the hall, keeping a special eye on him as Aziraphale slowly made his way down the staircase leading to the first floor of the house.

“I feel fine now, really,” Aziraphale insisted, as Anthony led him back to his favorite armchair in the sitting room.

Anthony ignored him, and didn’t break his gaze until Aziraphale was fully seated in his armchair.

“Well, I did remember something at least,” Aziraphale told Anthony. “Although I can’t say it made much sense.”

Anthony looked at him eagerly from the foot of his chair.

“It was the strangest thing,” Aziraphale mused looking up towards the ceiling of the room in thought. “A bit frightening too,” he added, remembering the all encompassing presence and the strange voice that he heard. 

He looked back towards Anthony. “I’d explain it all now but, well, there was a lot going on I think,” he confessed. “I know you want to hear about the memory, but…” he trailed off.

Anthony nodded in understanding.

Aziraphale felt some of the tension leave him in relief. “Thank you, I think I’ll need your advice later tonight,” he said.

Aziraphale and Anthony relaxed in the sitting room by the warmth of the fire that Anthony lit, breaking only for food. Aziraphale tried to read his latest book, but found it difficult to concentrate. He eventually found himself nodding off lulled to sleep by the comforting warmth of the fire.

Aziraphale woke up some time later, the sun still up, but significantly lowered in the sky, judging by the golden hue of sunlight streaming in from outside. Aziraphale stood and stretched, feeling the pleasant popping of his joints. He moved across the room to peer out the sitting room windows.

The majority of the frost and snow that had fallen over the grounds that morning had melted away in the day's light, but Aziraphale knew that it was only a matter of time before a good proper snowfall swept through. 

“Wouldn't mind a bit of snow,” Aziraphale commented looking back towards Anthony.

Anthony voiced a low pitched hiss in displeasure. Aziraphale laughed at the sour look on his face. 

“Well, I’d appreciate the snow, anyway,” he said.

Later that evening, Aziraphale and Anthony ate a quiet supper before the sun truly began to set, forcing them to retreat back into the bedroom. Anthony left the door to the room cracked open for a short while for Aziraphale to have enough light to wash up and change into his night clothes.

“Much better,” he sighed. after he climbed into bed.

Anthony huffed in approval, settling underneath the sheets and curling up by Aziraphale’s side. 

Aziraphale ran a hand up and down his long upper body in comfort. Aziraphale was able to stroke Anthony’s beautiful scales for a long while, before the shadows in the room grew in the bedroom and the spell over the master bedroom took hold. Aziraphale felt the familiar sensation of exhaustion hit him and then he fell fast asleep.

***

Aziraphale woke up some time later, still feeling fatigued. He sat up in bed slowly, wincing at the sore feeling of his muscles. The last memory he gained really knocked the wind out of him.

“Angel?” Anthony asked next to him.

“I’m awake,” Aziraphale said, ending with a large yawn.

“If you're too tired, we can do this another night,” Anthony suggested. 

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale said, waving his concern away. 

“If you’re sure then,” Anthony said.

“It was certainly an odd one though,” Aziraphale mused. “The memory I mean.”

“What did you remember?” Anthony asked eagerly.

“I was on a wall overlooking a desert,” Aziraphale began.

Anthony let in a sharp breath.

“Do you know that place?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yessss,” Anthony hissed. “Keep going.”

“Right,” Aziraphale blinked. “Well I was really high up. It was a bit frightening, actually,” he admitted.

“I bet,” Anthony said with sympathy.

“Well I was standing on a wall and then-” Aziraphale paused, struggling with the strangeness of it all. 

“And then?” Anthony asked.

“And then I heard a voice,” Aziraphale said.

“Did you see anyone?” Anthony asked, seriously. 

“No I sort of heard it come from all around me,” Aziraphale said. “And then I saw a sort of stream of light come down from the sky.”

“Oh no,” Anthony groaned.

“Did you know them then?” Aziraphale asked.

“How could I not?” Anthony laughed, bitterly.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked.

“Fine, fine, ignore me,” Anthony said. “Continue.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, uneasily. “Well the voice said, she sounded like a woman actually, she said take my flaming sword, you'll need it again.”

“No kidding,” Anthony said.

“Yes, and then she told me to guard the eastern gate, whatever that is,” Aziraphale said. 

“Of course,” Anthony laughed, a bit hysterically.

“Right, well, it was all very strange,” Aziraphale continued, feeling a bit worried for Anthony but pushing through regardless. “Oh and I called her Lord?” Aziraphale mentioned in confusion. “I thought that lord was only a title given to men, wouldn’t lady be more appropriate?” he wondered.

“Wouldn’t it indeed,” Anthony mumbled.

“Was she my boss?” Aziraphale guessed. The moment he said it though, it didn’t sound quite right.

“Of a sorts,” Anthony said.

“Obviously she had magic too,” Aziraphale said, but again once he said it, it felt like it didn’t quite fit.

“Among other things,” Anthony muttered, practically confirming his suspicions. 

“You don’t like her,” Aziraphale realized.

“Not really, no,” Anthony admitted.

“Did she hurt you?” Aziraphale asked, feeling his heart speed up.

Anthony let out a long tired sigh but he didn’t respond.

“She did hurt you,” Aziraphale said.

“It was a long time ago,” Anthony said, quietly.

“But it’s still hurting you,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony let out a deep breath. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.”

Aziraphale felt a white hot rage rise within him. “Is she the one who did this then?” he asked.

“Um no, I don’t think so, well, actually…” Anthony trailed off.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Is she the one behind all of this?” he asked, feeling his heart nearly leap out of his chest.

“Not directly, I don’t think,” Anthony said.

“But you do think she had something to do with this?” Aziraphale asked again.

“This, that, everything,” Anthony said, mysteriously. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, unsure. 

“Regardless, she isn’t the main person responsible, technically,” Anthony explained. “There are other people I’m worried about. I know I’m not explaining this well, just trust me, okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” Aziraphale agreed. “I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony said. “Now, about your memory.”

“Right, of course,” Aziraphale said.

“Anything else?” Anthony asked.

“Well…” Aziraphale said, wracking his brain. “There was just such a large wall, like absolutely massive,” he started. “And inside was an entire forest, or a jungle,” Aziraphale said.

“Of course,” Anthony said.

“It was beautiful,” Aziraphale said, recalling all of its splendid glory.

“I know,” Anthony agreed.

“You’ve seen it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes, a long long time ago,” Anthony answered.

“Where was it even?” Aziraphale wondered. “It was massive. I can’t imagine having never heard of it before.” 

“You have,” Anthony said.

“Oh right,” Aziraphale said, sheepishly. “I guess I forgot that too.”

“Anything else?” Anthony asked.

“No not much else. The robe I was wearing was a bit strange though,” Aziraphale remarked, suddenly remembering the strange clothes he had been wearing, all of the loose white cloth that fit loosely over his body.

“Don’t care much for it then?” Anthony asked, with a smile in his voice.

“I think I’d rather stick to my jumpers and waistcoats,” Aziraphale replied.

Anthony laughed. “Never change Angel.”

“I don’t plan to,” Aziraphale promised.

“Is that all then?” Anthony asked.

“I think so,” Aziraphale said, scanning his memory one more time. “I think I told you everything except for, oh-” he said, suddenly coming to a quiet conclusion.

“What is it?” Anthony asked curiously.

“It’s just-” Aziraphale started, before going silent once more. 

“Angel?” Anthony asked nervously. 

“I had wings,” Aziraphale said numbly.

“Oh Angel,” Anthony sighed.

Aziraphale could scarcely hear him. He was too busy looking back to the memory. How could he have forgotten? He could still feel them, if he tried, the ghost of their weight upon his back. The feeling of the hot desert winds through his long soft feathers.

“How could I forget?” Aziraphale asked, helplessly.

“It’s not your fault Angel,” Anthony said, drawing him into his arms. 

“Angel…” Aziraphale mused. “I always thought it was just a name but-” he cut off with a shuddering breath, blinking away tears.

“I’m here,” Anthony soothed him.

“I had wings, they were white and...Anthony what happened to them?” Aziraphale asked, suddenly.

“We’ll get them back,” Anthony said, in lieu of an answer.

“But how?” Aziraphale trembled.

“I wish I knew,” Anthony answered, helplessly. 

“The more I remember, the worse things get,” Aziraphale muttered darkly.

“Don’t say!” Anthony exclaimed. “Nothing has changed Angel. You just know more than you did before.”

“Oh Anthony, I don’t know how you can’t see this for what it is,” Aziraphale groaned. “This is a disaster, I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this.”

“Don’t lose hope Angel, it’s not over until it’s over,” Anthony said, holding him tight.

“What else has been taken from me?” Aziraphale demanded. “My magic, my memories, my freedom, now my wings!”

“We’ll get them back Angel, all of it,” Anthony vowed. “I won’t let them win.”

“I don’t see us winning this fight, I just can’t,” Aziraphale confessed.

“It’s okay,” Anthony said. “I’m here.”

Anthony held him for a long time. Aziraphale trembled in his arms and sobbed quietly into his chest. They stayed that way nearly all night. Aziraphale cried until his eyes were sticky and swollen with tears. Anthony had quietly shed a few tears of his own. They collapsed into bed hours later, exhausted and sick with grief. Eventually, Aziraphale managed to fall into a short and restless sleep.

Aziraphale awoke later that morning with a pounding headache and a sour feeling in his gut. He took comfort in the fact that Anthony was still sound asleep and curled behind him. 

Aziraphale gave a sleeping Anthony a small smile and quietly slipped out of bed to get dressed for the day. The moment his bare feet left the soft carpet near the bed and met the cold wooden floor, a cold shock ran through him. 

Aziraphale scrambled as quietly as he could to the wardrobe, dressing in a long sleeved fleece shirt with a woolen jumper on top and pulling on thick wool socks with slippers. Despite his warm attire, there was still a cool chill in the air. Not for the first time, nor would it be the last, Aziraphale wished they could use the fireplace to warm up the room.

Aziraphale washed his face and brushed his teeth with warm water, and by the time he was done, Anthony had begun to stir in bed. 

Anthony popped his head out of the covers, looking around the room in confusion.

“It's a bit cold today, isn't it?” Aziraphale remarked. 

Anthony hissed in agreement. He started when he slid out of bed, meeting the cold air. 

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen,” Aziraphale said. “We can light the fire and I’ll cook something nice and warm. How does that sound?” he asked.

Anthony let out a hiss of approval. They headed to the kitchen. It was even colder in the kitchen than the rest of the house. Aziraphale shivered at the frigid temperature, and glanced at the empty hearth on the other side of the house.

“Anthony could you-” he began.

Anthony must have caught onto his meaning, because before Aziraphale could even finish a strong cheerful flame sprang forth in the hearth.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, gratefully.

Anthony hissed in pleasure.

“Why don’t I put the kettle on?” Aziraphale suggested.

Anthony nodded in approval.

Aziraphale pumped a generous amount of water from the sink into the kettle and turned on the gas for the stove. He lit the stove with one long matchstick, before carefully blowing it out.

“We’ll be starting a lot of fires for a while,” he pointed out, as the kettle began to heat. 

Anthony hissed happily. 

“I thought you’d enjoy that,” Aziraphale smiled. “Not that I thought you’d care much for this dreadful cold,” he said, as he moved to the cupboard to look for some tea.

Anthony made a sharp displeased hissing sound, startling a laugh out of Aziraphale.

“No, I thought not,” he said, as he found a tin of nice strong black tea. 

Aziraphale put a generous amount of black tea in two tea strainers, and then pulled out a mug for himself and Anthony’s drinking dish. Soon enough, the kettle was screaming, and Aziraphale poured steaming water into each container. He fried some eggs and beef sausages over the stove and set the table while the tea set. 

Anthony ate his sausages whole and licked cautiously at his tea while Aziraphale ate.

“Not too hot?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony made a sound of approval. 

“Good,” Aziraphale said. He sipped his tea and closed his eyes in pleasure at the feeling of nice strong tea warming him from the inside.

The chill of the kitchen began to fade from the warmth of the fire. Soon enough, Aziraphale’s stomach was pleasantly warm and full of hot tea and food, doing wonders to chase away the bitter cold of winter.

“Lovely,” he breathed, as he finished his cup.

Anthony looked satisfied as well. He cleared the plates with a flick of his tail. Aziraphale looked at the window to see that the snow on the grounds had returned from the fresh snowfall of the night before, and now soft powdered clumps of snow covered the grounds.

“More snow again today,” he commented, idly.

Anthony hissed in displeasure.

“Wouldn’t mind walking around in it a bit,” Aziraphale said. 

Anthony hissed again.

“We don’t have to do it now,” Aziraphale laughed. “I know how much the cold affects you, I could always go by myself,” he offered.

Anthony hissed again louder in protest.

“I can’t stay cooped up in the house all winter,” Aziraphale pointed out, while rolling his eyes.

Anthony tilted his head downwards towards the floor in irritation. 

“We can discuss this later,” Aziraphale said. He got up from the kitchen table and made his way towards the sitting room.

Anthony slid off of his seat and followed close behind.

The sitting room was significantly cooler than the kitchen. Anthony lit the fire immediately and crawled over to the lounge before draping himself on top of it.

Aziraphale smiled at the sight, but still felt a twinge of worry. Anthony was looking more lethargic lately now than when the weather had been warmer.

Aziraphale back tracked briefly into the hallway. He rummaged around in the nearest linen closet and unearthed a thick woolen blanket. He stepped back inside the sitting room. He leaned over the back of the lounge, and glanced down at Anthony curled on the cushions below.

Aziraphale thought that he looked, dare he think it, cute, curled up on the soft cushions, his scales shining by the light of the fire. Aziraphale shook his head and unfolded the blanket, and gently placed it over Anthony. 

Anthony looked up at him curiously, part of the blanket slid down from atop of his head and flopped back down onto the cushions.

“Well look at you!” Aziraphale giggled at the sight.

Anthony tilted his head at Aziraphale’s amusement and settled back down to sleep. 

Aziraphale moved to his favorite armchair and settled in. He was eager to finish his latest book, ‘Les Miserable,’ a depressing, but fascinating read. It was only after a few hours of reading until Aziraphale’s eyes and neck began to feel the strain of his non-stop reading. 

Aziraphale rubbed the back of his neck and then his eyes in order to ease the ache. He shot a glance at Anthony back towards the lounge, to find him fast asleep.

Aziraphale looked to the flame across from the room, allowing his eyes to focus on something further away to give his eyes a break. The flame in the hearth danced as strongly as ever, never dying down or needing more wood to fuel it. 

Aziraphale mused once more what a useful thing magic was, and he felt a pang of loss go through him. Aziraphale glanced at Anthony once more, contemplative. ‘Angel,’ it was such an innocuous nickname, but it had apparently been truer than Aziraphale had known.

Aziraphale tried not to think about the details, but there was no denying the facts. Between his own few recovered memories and Anthony’s own hinting, the truth was clear. Aziraphale was, or had at least once been, an angel.

Aziraphale gripped his book tighter in his hands at the mere thought. No matter how impossible the idea might be, it explained too much to not be true.

Aziraphale sighed deeply at the thought, feeling a steady headache begin to form. The idea of him being an angel filled him with nothing but terror. Aziraphale’s mind raced at the implications. So angels were real then? That would certainly explain all of the angelic decor Anthony had decorated the manor with, especially that ghastly statue in the entrance hall.

Aziraphale grimaced at the mental image of that terrible piece before moving on. He knew about the concept of angels vaguely, but he didn’t know much, thanks to his missing memories. He knew they were powerful, and answered to some higher authority, but other than that-

Aziraphale froze mid thought. A deep shudder ran down his spine. A higher authority, the highest authority in fact. He knew who they were, who she was, rather. He thought back to his most recent recovered memory. The voice of a woman and a light shining down from the sky, a command, and a flaming sword placed into his hands. He thought back to the other night, to Anthony alluding to the woman partially being responsible for the situation they now both found themselves in.

“No,” Aziraphale whispered to himself in horror.

It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. Aziraphale stood up from his arm chair, his knees trembling. The book he held in his hands slid from his grip and fell onto the floor with a dull thump.

Anthony stirred on the lounge at the sound, looking up blearily at the source of the noise. Aziraphale watched him glance down towards the book curiously on the floor, before jolting and looking up quickly at Aziraphale in alarm.

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale said automatically, wincing at the anxious note in his voice.

Anthony looked at him closely, then back down at the book on the floor, and then back to Aziraphale again in an almost accusatory manner. 

Aziraphale sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and swaying in place. “Okay,” he conceded. “Maybe I’m not fine,” he said, sitting back down in his chair heavily.

Anthony let out a worried questioning hiss.

“It’s just-” Aziraphale began, shuddering. “You and I are, were-?” he stopped himself in confusion. “Were whatever, we were angels, weren’t we?” he asked, looking at Anthony helplessly.

Anthony startled at the question, before looking to the floor solemnly. 

“I’m not wrong am I?” Aziraphale asked, feeling his mouth go dry.

Anthony shook his head.

It was like a large heavy stone fell into the bottom of Aziraphale’s stomach at the motion.

“Does that mean that that voice I heard in my memory is…” he trailed off.

Anthony made eye contact with him, his beautiful golden slit eyes shining with concern. He nodded slowly in confirmation.

“And she’s the one behind all of this?” Aziraphale burst out in panic.

Anthony shook his head wildly, he slid off the lounge and sidled up to Aziraphale, placing his head on Aziraphale’s lap. His weight on Aziraphale’s lap calmed him. Aziraphale placed a hand on top of Anthony’s head, stroking his scales to better soothe himself. 

“I don’t want to think of what I’ll do if she’s behind all of this,” Aziraphale whispered in fear.

Anthony looked at him with serious eyes and nodded in understanding.

“I think we should discuss this later tonight,” Aziraphale said, looking back down at Anthony. 

Anthony nodded again. He kept his head on Aziraphale’s lap for a long time, allowing Aziraphale to stroke his scales by the fire. Eventually, Aziraphale calmed down, and was able to read a little more of his book with Anthony’s comforting weight on top of him. Despite this, his thoughts were largely elsewhere.

Normally the daylight faded far too quickly for Aziraphale’s tastes, but this time, the night couldn’t come soon enough. The daylight hours dragged on for far longer than he would have liked, and each hour passed feeling longer than the last.

Aziraphale was relieved when dinner time rolled around. Preparing their evening meal gave him something to do other than sit and worry. He made a nice hot leak and potato soup. He took great pleasure in chopping the potatoes and cutting the leaks, happy to have his hands and mind occupied. 

After dinner was eaten and all of the plates had been put away, hand washed at Aziraphale’s insistence, Aziraphale felt ready to turn in for the night. A quick glance at an exhausted Anthony confirmed that he felt the same. Together they shuffled down the hall and back to the master bedroom.

Aziraphale did his regular washing up for the night while Anthony collapsed onto the bed. Aziraphale dressed for the night and looked to Anthony with worry. As each winter day went by, he looked more and more exhausted. Aziraphale wrung his hands together anxiously before heaving a heavy sigh and settling into bed. 

The wind had picked up outside and Aziraphale could hear it rattling the house, despite the lack of windows in the bedroom. A cold chill clung to the air and Aziraphale buried himself deeper under the covers, chasing the warmth of the hot water bottle Anthony had made before sleeping. He lay under the sheets, sheltering from the cold and listening to the howling of the wind. He had an idle thought that there might be some fresh snow fallen by tomorrow until he too fell asleep.

***

Aziraphale woke and immediately glanced towards Anthony on instinct, finding that the room had already turned pitch black.

“Anthony?” he asked, feeling around for him on his side of the bed. 

“Mmm Angel?” Anthony mumbled, his voice garbled by sleep. 

“Are you awake?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mmm, yeah,” Anthony said, letting out a large yawn at the end.

“You can go back to sleep if you want,” Azirpahale said.

“No I’m good,” Anthony said. “I can go back to sleep later.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, a little dubiously.

“You were worried earlier,” Anthony prompted.

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Anthony asked.

“It’s just-” Aziraphale began. “Oh Anthony, what on earth are we going to do?” he asked. “If we’ve angered her…” he trailed off.

“I don’t think that’s it exactly,” Anthony said.

“Then what do you think it is?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony sighed. “It’s hard to explain,” he said.

“That’s okay, I’m listening,” Aziraphale said.

“She just, ugh,” Anthony grumbled. “She just knows everything and I guess controls everything.”

“That bodes well,” Aziraphale said timidly, his mind racing with Anthony’s admission.

“You’re telling me,” Anthony replied. He struggled for a bit to find his next words, whether it be due to the particulars of the spell or his own feelings toward their Lord, Aziraphale didn’t know.

“I don’t want to focus too much on her,” Anthony said, finally. “If this is all a part of her plan, then there’s not much we can do about it.”

Aziraphale felt a pang go through him at Anthony’s admission. Every time Aziraphale had begun to lose hope, Anthony was always the one to reassure him. To hear him admit defeat so easily filled him with a cold dread.

“Well, let’s just hope that her plans don’t do anything bad to us,” Aziraphale said, when he found his voice again.

Anthony laughed, but it was a sharp almost broken laugh. Aziraphale’s heart ached to hear it. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” Anthony decided. “Like why you want to act like a madman and go out in that awful weather.

“Exercise is good for you,” Aziraphale responded, eager for the lighter turn in conversation. 

“In the snow!” Anthony countered, indignantly.

“I like snow, it’s lovely,” Aziraphale said, trying to sound put upon, but he heard a smile leak through to his voice.

“It’s cold and wet,” Anthony countered.

“Well I suppose it’s easier for me to keep warm than you,” Aziraphale said.

“No doubt,” Anthony said. He sighed again. “You’re going to have me go out there, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Aziraphale said.

“I’m not going to have you go out there alone with them lurking about,” Anthony said, with an extra emphasis on ‘them’.

“Alright then,” Aziraphale said. “Then what do you suggest? I’ll tell you right now I won’t have you catching your death in that cold.”

“I’m working on it,” Anthony said.

“Can’t you just use your magic to keep yourself warm when you’re a snake?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony didn’t respond immediately. “That might be difficult,” he admitted, finally.

“Why?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony paused again.

“Anthony what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, sensing that something was amiss.

“It’s nothing,” Anthony denied, quickly.

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked, skeptically.

“I don’t want you to worry,” Anthony said.

“I gathered that,” Aziraphale replied.

“Okay, well, it’s just that I’ve been a bit more tired lately,” Anthony admitted.

“You have been sleeping a lot more as of late,” Aziraphale agreed.

“Right, exactly, and it’s been a bit harder for me to perform miracles,” he said.

“Miracles?” Aziraphale repeated. “That’s what it’s called isn’t it? Not magic?”

“Exactly,” Anthony exhaled. “You’re getting there Angel.”

Aziraphale smiled briefly before realizing what Anthony was trying to tell him. “Your powers are waning?” 

“I’m just tired,” Anthony sighed. “They’re still there, it just takes a lot more out of me.”

“It’s the cold isn’t it?” Aziraphale asked. “It drains you.”

“Yes,” Anthony confirmed.

“You don’t have to come outside with me,” Aziraphale said.

“And I’m not leaving you alone,” Anthony countered.

“I guess I don’t have to walk around outside,” Aziraphale said.

He must not have been able to keep the disappointment out of his voice because Anthony spoke up again.

“That wouldn’t make you happy though,” he said, seriously.

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale fumbled for a bit. He bit his lip thinking carefully.

The bedroom was still freezing cold, despite the sheets being warmed by the hot water bottle. Aziraphale moved a bit further underneath the covers to get away from the cold air of the rest of the room. The sheets below were pleasantly warm and protected him from the cold. 

“I think I have an idea,” Aziraphale said, with a stroke of inspiration.

“Yes?” Anthony asked.

“Why don’t we use the water bottle?” Aziraphale suggested. 

“For what?” Anthony asked, confused, before he caught onto Aziraphale’s meaning. “For what, going outside?” he asked.

“Yes, we can take it with us,” Aziraphale nodded in the dark.

“How?” Anthony asked. “It’s not like I have hands in that form.”

“I could carry you,” Aziraphale offered. 

“Angel, I’m a ten foot long serpent. A heavy one at that,” Anthony said, bluntly.

“Oh right,” Aziraphale said, bashfully. “Well how about I put you in something else to carry you around.”

“Like what, a wagon?” Anthony snorted.

“Yes, that’s it exactly!” Aziraphale said in excitement.

“You’re joking,” Anthony said. “Please tell me you’re joking,” he pleaded.

“I can load it with some warm blankets and wrap the hot water bottle in them,” Aziraphale said, pretending not to hear him.

“Now hang on,” Anthony said, quickly. 

“Oh come on now Anthony, I think that it’s a grand idea,” Aziraphale smiled.

“It’s humiliating!” Anthony protested.

“Well you could always stay inside after all,” Aziraphale said, slyly. 

“No, no way,” Anthony said.

“Oh so you want to crawl around in the snow as is?” Aziraphale asked.

“...No,” Anthony grumbled.

“Well those are your options,” Aziraphale sniffed. “Take it or leave it.” 

“Bossy,” Anthony muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked with a grin.

“Nothing,” Anthony groaned. “Have it your way then.”

“I think I will,” Aziraphale said.

“As you so often do,” Anthony commented. “Fine, I’ll ride in your ridiculous wagon, but I won’t like it.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said.

“And don’t worry too much about her,” Anthony said, growing serious once more.

Aziraphale straightened at the tone of his voice. 

“We’ll beat the people responsible for this, okay?” Anthony said.

“Okay,” Aziraphale agreed. 

“Good, now get over here, it’s freezing in here.”

Aziraphale smiled and moved closer to Anthony, gladly moving into his arms and cuddling close. Anthony held him to his chest and kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head and then sweetly on his lips. Aziraphale melted into the kiss, feeling a warm rush of affection run through him.

Outside the wind continued to howl and rattle the house. The temperature dropped and the snow fell outside, but there, tucked away in their own little corner of the world, everything was safe and warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done. Winter is well underway now. Let me know what you guys think!


	23. Chapter 23

Aziraphale woke up late the next morning, enjoying the comforting warmth of the bed. He woke up slowly, blinked his eyes rapidly, and took in his surroundings. It took him a while to convince himself to leave the safe warmth of a bed. He considered letting sleep take him again, before he remembered how few daylight hours there were now, and what a waste it would be to spend them lazing about in bed,

Reluctantly, Aziraphale slowly got up in bed, and shivered in the cold air of the room. Anthony was still passed out beside him. Aziraphale let him be as he hurried out of bed and towards his wardrobe, while pulling on the warmest clothes he could find. Anthony began to stir by his less than quiet hurrying. Aziraphale glanced at him and stifled a laugh at his unamused attitude. 

“Would you like something to eat?” he offered. He hoped that the promise of food might be enough to coax Anthony out of bed.

Anthony nodded, tentatively sliding out of bed and hissing indignantly when his body hit the cold floor below. The two of them left the bedroom and shuffled down the hall. Aziraphale put the kettle on as soon as he could, while Anthony lit the hearth. He huddled close to the flames and curled up on the floor by the fire. He soaked up the warmth of the flames while Aziraphale prepared breakfast for them both.

Aziraphale kept a careful eye on Anthony as he cooked, choosing to make a warm filling pot of porridge with cinnamon and sliced apples on top. Aziraphale poured the tea and set the table, and called Anthony over once everything was in place.

Anthony lethargically looked up from his place by the fire. He slowly crawled to the table and took his usual place at the table. Aziraphale tried not to let his worry show as Anthony slowly ate his food and drank his tea. Once they were both done, Aziraphale moved to do the dishes, waving Anthony to let him do it before he could miracle them clean.

“I’ll do it, it gives me something to do,” he smiled as pleasantly as he could, not wanting Anthony to see how anxious he was feeling. 

Anthony merely tilted his head and let him be. Once the dishes were done, they made their way to the sitting room. Anthony lit the fire in the room and moved immediately to curl up on the soft carpet in front of it, ignoring the lounge completely. 

Aziraphale swallowed thickly at the jolt of fear that ran through him at Anthony’s sluggish behavior. Was he ill? Was he doing too many miracles?

Aziraphale pondered all of this while he sat in his armchair. He took the folded tartan blanket and draped it around himself for warmth. He tried to focus on finishing his books, but found himself shooting careful looks at Anthony every few pages or so. 

Anthony slept, undisturbed and oblivious to Aziraphale’s worried gaze. The morning moved on slowly, and just as Aziraphale was about to break and march over there to check on him, Anthony began to stir. 

He looked around the room and caught Aziraphale’s eye. 

“Have a nice nap?” he asked, when he found his voice again.

Anthony nodded.

“Well, good,” Aziraphale said. He placed his book to the side. “Do you want to do something else, perhaps play a game of chess?”

Anthony looked at him blankly and tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked. 

Anthony looked at him for a long moment before turning around and staring out the window pointedly.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go outside in the cold?”

Anthony tilted his head again and shot him a questioning look. Aziraphale could feel himself freeze under his intelligent gaze.

“I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to,” he explained, quickly.

Anthony gazed at Aziraphale carefully. 

“If you’re up for it,” Aziraphale said. He felt his shoulders slump. 

Anthony nodded again. He followed Aziraphale back to the kitchen, watching him gather his white warm cloak and fiddle with the clasp as he put it on.

“Oh, some gloves would be good too,” he thought aloud, moving to return to the bedroom so he could look through his wardrobe and cabinets for a pair, before Anthony beat him to it.

Anthony looked at the kitchen table, and then suddenly there were a pair of pristine white gloves waiting for him. He glanced towards Anthony with disapproval. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said sternly. “I’m sure I had a pair already in the bedroom somewhere.”

Anthony let out a hiss that sounded distinctly unapologetic. Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the cheek and ignored it.

“Oh alright, fine then,” he caved, and reached for the gloves.

He noticed they were made from soft and supple leather. He put the gloves on, and was almost irritated to feel a soft wool interior that molded to his hands perfectly. 

“You spoil me far too much dear,” he said, after he had put the gloves on. 

Anthony hissed again looking distinctly pleased with himself.

“Alright, let me get the blankets then, do not miracle any!” Aziraphale was quick to demand before Anthony could do any more surprise miracaling.

Anthony hissed reluctantly in agreement. Aziraphale popped back into the hallway to rummage for some warm blankets. He grabbed a few, adding his own tartan blanket, and the soft woolen one that he gave to Anthony the other day. He grabbed one long white towel to pad the bottom of the wagon, and more importantly, wrapped the hot water bottle in so that it wouldn’t burn Anthony.

He gathered them all together in his arms and walked back into the kitchen, placing his hoard onto the kitchen table. He blinked when he noticed the new addition to the room.

There, next to a smug looking Anthony near a still blazing hearth, was a small wooden wagon with large red metal wheels adept for navigating through snow. The wagon itself was made from a soft brown wood with tall sides, and a latch in the back for opening one of the flaps and loading cargo. Or in this case, naughty serpents.

There was a long metal handle that perfectly matched the color of the wheels. Aziraphale approached the wagon and saw that the inside had a spacious interior that offered plenty of room for a ten foot long serpent without having too much room where he’d slide and get jostled around. 

“You really have thought of everything haven’t you?” Aziraphale commented, when he finished his inspection.

Anthony puffed at his chest. 

Aziraphale smiled and rolled his eyes. 

He padded the bottom of the wagon first with the towel, and then wrapped up the hot water bottle in it. It was nearly identical to the one Anthony had conjured for the bedroom, although this one was slightly smaller. 

Aziraphale started layering the blankets into the wagon before Anthony hissed to stop him. Aziraphale paused in his work and glanced towards Anthony.

“Yes?” he asked curiously.

Anthony moved towards him to where he was bent over placing the blankets into the wagon. He pointed his head at the latch in the back. 

“You want to get in now?” Aziraphale guessed.

Anthony nodded. 

“You just want me to wrap you up in all of those blankets, don’t you?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded again, looking enthusiastically at the bundle of blankets inside the wagon.

“Very well,” Aziraphale sighed. He tried his best to appear stern, but felt his lips twitch with mirth.

He unlatched the bolt keeping the flap to the back of the wagon closed, opened it up, and watched Anthony extend his body upwards to crawl inside. Once Anthony was properly settled atop of the towel and hot water bottle, Aziraphale was careful to layer all of the other blankets around him in a cocoon of warmth.

Aziraphale fussed with the blankets until he was fully satisfied that Anthony would be properly protected by the elements.

“Perfect,” he said, looking at his work with pride.

Anthony peered up at him through the small gap he left for him. Aziraphale privately thought that he looked adorable wrapped up as he was, but he didn’t think Anthony would appreciate the sentiment, so he kept the thought to himself.

“Ready to go out then?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded.

Aziraphale took the handle of the wagon and made his way to the door leading out to the garden. He opened the door and was hit with a blast of bracing cold air. Outside was a canvas of white. More snow had fallen during the night, and it hit the ground in a thick blanket of white.

Branches of trees and foliage had thick clumps of snow clinging to them. Some smaller bushes buckled down under its heavy weight. The trees snow covered bare branches could have easily been mistaken for flowering trees, with white, delicate petals from a distance. 

The grass was completely covered in a thick blanket of snow, at least a few inches deep, by Aziraphale’s estimation. There were thin icicles that clung to tree branches, and even Aziraphale’s little garden shed had icicles that gleamed like jewels in the sunlight. Everything was serene and lovely, and Aziraphale almost hesitated to disturb it.

Still, he was quite tired of being cooped up in the house.

“Alright, let’s go,” Aziraphale said. He tightened his grip on the handle and moved to step outside.

It was a sharp and short hiss that stopped Aziraphale in his tracks. Aziraphale looked down at Anthony. Anthony wasn’t looking back up at him, though. Instead, he looked pointedly downward. Aziraphale followed his gaze down. He blushed at the sight of his own warm woolen socks and slippers.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Hang on, I’ll just-” he said pointing his thumb to the vague direction of the bedroom. 

Anthony hissed in understanding. Aziraphale quickly turned around and strode out of the kitchen and down the hall, his face heated in embarrassment. He quickly found his winter boots tucked away in the back of the wardrobe, the same pair he arrived in all of those months ago. He left his slippers by the bed and pulled them on before hurrying back to Anthony.

Anthony watched him re-enter the room with an air of amusement. Aziraphale smiled bashfully at him. 

“Now we can go,” he said. He took the handle of the wagon in hand once more and pulled it through the open doorway. 

Once the wagon was fully clear of the doorway, Aziraphale was careful to close it firmly behind him to keep the heat inside the house. 

“Shouldn’t we have put out the fires?” Aziraphale asked, thinking back to the blazing fires in the kitchen and sitting room. 

Anthony let out a brief low hiss that Aziraphale interpreted as unconcerned. Trusting Anthony not to let their home burn down, Aziraphale made his way through the garden. Pulling the wagon through the snow was surprisingly easy, whether it was due to the wagon's design or another one of Anthony’s miracles, Aziraphale didn’t know.

Aziraphale breathed in the cold crisp air, enjoying the cool feel of it in his lungs. He thoroughly enjoyed the crunch of the snow beneath his boots as he walked. He could hear the clack of the wagons wheels turning as he pulled the wagon behind him. Despite the haze of snow, sunlight shone through the fluffy line of white clouds overhead, causing everything to glitter and gleam where the light had touched it.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” he asked Anthony, while turning back behind him.

Anthony didn’t respond, nor did he peek out from his safe cocoon of warm blankets. Aziraphale laughed at his reticence to brave the cold and continued onward. Aziraphale was careful to guide the wagon down wider paths in the garden for the wagon’s large wheels to fit. 

He led Anthony through the garden, gazing at empty flower beds that had once hosted an array of beautiful flowers. Aziraphale was happy to find that even among all of the empty flower beds, there were a few smaller splashes of color peeking out through the snow.

On one of the paths Aziraphale walked down, lining the snow covered cobble, were neat rows of purple and red winter pansies. As he walked on, he spotted a small bed of snowdrop flowers, difficult to see with their white drooping petals camouflaged with the snow. 

The only thing that gave them away were the green thin long, stems pushing their flowers up from the thick layer of snow. Aziraphale was very pleased to see some semblance of life and color in the otherwise bare garden. 

After meandering through the garden, Aziraphale guided Anthony towards the duck pond. He was beginning to sweat from all of the exercise and warm layers he was bundled in. Silently resolving to exercise more often, he made his way closer to the water.

Large sections of the pond were frozen over by thin sheets of precarious looking ice. Clumps of snow clung to the ice that clung to the shoreline. Aziraphale gazed out at the pond with a bit of sadness. 

There were birds singing in the trees nearby who hadn’t migrated for winter. Still, Daphne’s little family would always hold a special place in his heart. Aziraphale closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh cool air, feeling its icy touch expand in his lungs and tickle the back of his throat. 

A questioning hiss broke him out of his trance. He looked back behind him to see Anthony poke his head out of his thickly wrapped cocoon, staring curiously at him. 

“It’s beautiful,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the frozen pond in front of them.

Anthony spared it a quick glance before looking back to Aziraphale.

“Time to head in then?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony hesitated for a small moment, and then nodded his head. Aziraphale took his time getting back to the house, enjoying the fresh air, and confident that Anthony would keep warm. Eventually, they returned to the backdoor of the house. Aziraphale dragged the wagon into the kitchen, heedless of the snow still clinging to the wheels and dirtying the floor.

Aziraphale made sure to close the door carefully behind him to keep all of the warm air in. The fire was still blazing merrily in the hearth, and Aziraphale was quietly relieved to see that the house hadn’t burned down in their absence. The kitchen felt almost too warm, bundled up in warm clothes as he was. 

Anthony peered out among the blankets again, looking warm and cosy.

“You don’t want to leave that, do you?” Aziraphale guessed.

Anthony shook his head in confirmation.

“I thought not,” Aziraphale smiled.

He left Anthony alone in his warm cocoon, choosing to focus on the dirtied melted snow dripping from the wagon onto the kitchen floor. After removing his boots and letting them dry by the fire, Aziraphale popped open the nearest cupboard for some towels and threw them down by the wagon to soak up the melting snow. 

Once that was done, Aziraphale set to preparing lunch. He made a simple, yet filling, creamy onion soup, and pulled out an old half loaf of bread he had baked several days ago. He cut large slices of bread and set them on plates on the table. He unlatched Anthony’s wagon once the soup was poured into bowels and the table properly set. Anthony peeked out from his cocoon of blankets and slithered out. 

The soup was tasty and hot, and although the bread was a little stale, Aziraphale was able to dip it into his soup before eating. Anthony practically inhaled his soup and swallowed large chunks of bread whole. Aziraphale wiped down the table and washed the dishes by hand. By the time he was done, Anthony was beginning to look a bit drowsy.

“Getting tired again?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded.

“Why don’t we go to the sitting room?” he suggested.

Anthony nodded in agreement and slumped out of his chair. He let out a sharp hiss when his body made contact with the cold floor. Aziraphale left the wagon in the kitchen and went through the hall towards the sitting room. 

Anthony plopped gratefully down on the floor by the fire. Aziraphale placed a blanket over Anthony. He sat in his arm chair and tried to continue his reading from before, but found that he was distracted. Anthony’s exhaustion was beginning to worry him.

Aziraphale placed his book back in his lap and considered his options. Anthony looked more and more tired as days went on. It seemed like he was beginning to spend more time asleep than awake.

Aziraphale drummed his fingers over his book, chewing his lower lip deep in thought. Anthony and him were running out of time. Winter was progressing, and Aziraphale wasn’t confident if they would make it to spring. 

Wandering the manor alone was obviously dangerous, but at a quick glance towards an exhausted Anthony, Aziraphale doubted how much strength he had left in him. Mind made up, Aziraphale quietly stood up from his seat, and placed his book back on his chair. 

He kept a careful eye on Anthony as he backed out of the room, moving slowly so as to not disturb him. Right before exiting the room, Aziraphale gave one last look at Anthony sleeping form by the fire. Seeing Anthony’s exhausted form strengthened his resolve.

Aziraphale exited the sitting room and walked towards the library with purpose. He opened the large heavy doors of the library and cautiously peered inside. The room was much colder than the sitting room. The light from outside shone through the stained glass windows, causing an eerie glow to shine through the room.

Aziraphale left the door to the room open behind him, just in case. He stepped inside and cautiously began to look around. Seeing nothing amiss, Aziraphale made a beeline for the nearest bookcase and skimmed through the titles.

“No...no,” he muttered under his breath as he read the titles. 

“Philosophy and civilization, religion and the rise of capitalism, no, not that,” Aziraphale groaned.

He knew he should have organized the library when he had the chance!

“Too late for that now,” he sighed to himself.

Aziraphale skimmed through the shelves, passing over tomes of music, history, and philosophy. He finally stumbled upon what might have been a loosely organized science section, taking time to look through each book. Finally after scanning through titles and skimming through some other books, he found what he was looking for. 

“International wildlife encyclopedia,” he gasped, grasping one enormous book in his hands tightly. 

He flipped open the dark leather cover, going straight to the table of contents.

“Snakes, snakes,” he muttered to himself, using his pointer finger to search through each word. 

“Snakes are thought to have evolved from terrestrial lizards as early as the middle Jurassic epoch…” Aziraphale muttered. 

He scanned through the next few passages. There was some information on venomous snakes and general deaths caused by snake venom on average per year. He skimmed through a few more passages after that before he finally found something promising. 

“Brumation,” Aziraphale said. “Brumation is a low energy state that snakes go into over winter-aha!” Aziraphale cheered. He eagerly read through the rest of the passage. “This is similar to hibernation, except snakes do not go into a deep sleep. They maintain their body temperature and conserve energy.”

Aziraphale could have cried with relief. Anthony was just brumating, there was nothing else wrong with him. Except for being forced to be a serpent during the day that is. 

“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about,” Aziraphale said to himself, and closed the book with a snap.

He placed the book back in its proper place on the shelf and turned back towards the entryway of the library. He paused at the doorway when another thought occurred to him. Aziraphale now knew that he was, or at least used to be, an angel. Still, he didn’t really know what that meant.

Aziraphale looked back towards the bookshelves curiously. Anthony would be asleep for a little while yet. He wouldn’t notice he was missing for a little while longer. Mind made up, Aziraphale went back towards the shelves and began to search. He found many different titles such as; ‘Lorna Doone’, ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘Don Quixote’. 

He moved past the fiction section and found a bundle of non-fiction books as well such as, ‘How to Keep What You Have’, or ‘What Your Broker Never Told You’, ‘Case Studies in Child Development’, and interestingly enough, ‘What Else Can You Do With a Library Degree?’ 

The last one gave Aziraphale a good chuckle. He spent quite a while longer, skimming the shelves finding more clusters of novels and other genres like law or politics, before he finally struck gold. 

“Distinguishing The Angel of the Lord,” Aziraphale felt a sudden jolt in his heart when he found it. He licked his lips, feeling them suddenly go dry as he opened the book and began to read. 

“Rene Lopez has clarified a number of arguments to assist the identification of the Angel of the Lord as an agent of God,” Aziraphale read quietly out loud,barely stopping to pause for breath.

“This, the veracity of Lopez’s thesis, hinges on the availability to distinguish between the angel and his Lord, something not sufficiently established.” Aziraphale felt his hands start to tremble at those words. Distinguish between the angel and his lord? What on earth did that mean? He kept reading through the passage. 

“If the two cannot be adequately distinguished, we gain further evidence for identifying the angel as God.” 

Aziraphale stopped reading after that. It took him a few more moments to realize that it was no longer just his hands that were trembling, but now his entire body. Aziraphale closed the book and with shaking hands, placed it back on the shelf. He felt he no longer wanted to read. 

He got up slowly and exited the room. He walked back down the hall in a daze. He entered the sitting room once more finding Anthony in the exact same position as he left him. Aziraphale moved his book off of his chair and collapsed into it. His body felt heavy and weak. It was only a few moments longer did Aziraphale realize he was gripping the armrests of the chair with an iron grip. 

With a rattling sigh, Aziraphale forced himself to let go and relax his grip. He placed both hands in his lap, no longer knowing what to do with them. Aziraphale felt his mind wander away from his body, numb with shock. He stared at the fire, and then his lap for a long time. The thought of being a servant of the Lord running through his mind in an endless loop. Finally, after what felt like an age, Anthony began to stir by the fire. 

Aziraphale snapped into focus on Anthony. Anthony moved lethargically. He raised his head slowly, and turned to catch Aziraphale's gaze. Aziraphale looked back at him helplessly. 

Anthony became more alert after that, crawling over to him as much as his tired body will allow. Aziraphale was able to muster a weak smile, for Anthony’s sake, if nothing else. Anthony gazed back up at him with worry shining in his golden eyes.

“I think-” Aziraphale said, quietly, his words barely more than a whisper. He swallowed thickly. “I don’t have the words-” he paused, biting his lip to hold the tears that threatened to fall.

Anthony crept closer, almost cautiously. Slowly, he placed his head in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale couldn’t even muster another weak smile. The best he could do was take one of his hands out of his lap and place it on top of Anthony’s head for comfort.

“Can you wait for me?” Aziraphale asked him quietly. ‘Until I find the words,’ was what he didn’t say.

Anthony nodded solemnly.

Aziraphale sighed with no small amount of relief, and slumped further back into his chair. He let his body go lax, and kept a careful hand over Anthony’s head for comfort. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, then out. They stayed there quietly for a long time together, with Aziraphale gathering his thoughts, and Anthony waiting patiently for Aziraphale without complaint. 

Aziraphale, not for the first time, was touched by Anthony’s kindness, and his patience. 

“I think-” Aziraphale began, finally. Anthony looked up at him, and gave him his undivided attention. “I think we’ll need to talk later tonight,” Aziraphale said, meaningfully. 

Anthony hissed in what Aziraphale interpreted to be a questioning noise.

“I’ll be able to explain it better with you then,” Aziraphale explained.

Anthony hesitated, before letting out a sound of agreement. Aziraphale felt a small tired smile grow on his face at the sound. 

“Why don’t I start on dinner?” Aziraphale suggested, eager to take his mind off of what he just learned.

Anthony hissed in agreement and removed his head from Aziraphale’s lap to let him get up from his chair. Aziraphale led Anthony to the kitchen where he started to cook an earlier dinner. He purposefully chose ingredients that would take longer to cook, eager to have his hands occupied.

Aziraphale started by rinsing some potatoes and cutting them into thick wedges, opting to leave the skin on. He preheated the oven and put the potatoes to the side. He chopped up some onions, fighting the watery sting in his eyes while he did so, and placed them to the side as well.

Anthony was able to muster up enough strength for a miracle to make a raw well sized turkey body, the feathers and other unsavory bits already removed for Aziraphale’s use, but Aziraphale could tell that just performing that miracle obviously drained him. Anthony slumped by the fire while Aziraphale made to prepare dinner.

Aziraphale set out to create the marinade for the turkey, choosing a generous amount of butter and herbs to use with some lemon juice. Once that was done, he was careful to brush the marinade over the meat, and made sure to not leave any bits of it unattended, before he placed the turkey in the oven. He took it out a few times to baste the turkey to keep it moist. He worked up a sweat doing so, as he was so close to the oven and the residual heat of the hearth.

He also made a nice stuffing with some ripped up parts of leftover bread, onion, celery and herbs he had lying around. In all it took several hours of careful preparation and well timed effort, but by mid-evening, Aziraphale had finished a beautifully cooked stuffed turkey with a lovely side of roast potatoes.

He had even thrown some green beans to saute in a pan on the stove while he was still waiting for the turkey to finish cooking. He silently thanked Anthony for whatever miracle he placed on the larder and the icebox that made everything he had harvested in the garden fresh, even months later. 

Aziraphale only moved to wake Anthony once everything was fully done and the table completely set. He took a few long moments to wake completely, but looked pleased when he saw the delectable spread waiting for him on the kitchen table.

The two of them spent a pleasant dinner together. Aziraphale ate his fill, and Anthony stayed awake for long enough to enjoy a nice tall glass, or for him, bowl of rich red wine. 

By the time dinner was fully done, the excess plates were dried and put away, and the leftovers carefully placed into the ice box. Aziraphale was working his way through his second glass of wine, and felt pleasantly buzzed. 

Anthony didn’t look much better from where he was swaying in his seat. Aziraphale smiled at the sight of Anthony, all loose and relaxed. It eased some of the tension he had been carrying with him all night.

The sun had gone down considerably since they had finished their dinner earlier, and judging by the sunlight that remained, they were better off turning in sooner rather than later.

“Tired?” Aziraphale asked Anthony, from where he was beginning to doze off at the table.

Anthony slowly turned towards him and sleepily nodded his head.

“Me too,” Aziraphale agreed, draining the rest of his wine glass and leaving it in the sink.

They stumbled down the hall and back into the master bedroom, no worse for wear. Aziraphale washed and changed for bed with only a little difficulty. The tell-tale sleepiness he got after getting drunk hit him right as he was moving the covers aside to settle into bed. Aziraphale let out a large yarn.

Anthony made a questioning noise.

“Long day,” Aziraphale answered simply. “I’ll tell you when I wake up.”

Anthony made an affirmative noise and together they settled into bed. Aziraphale didn’t have to wait very long before the familiar wave of fatigue hit him and he was fast asleep.

***

Aziraphale awoke dry mouthed and with a bit of a headache. Cursing himself for not drinking any water before bed, he turned to his nightstand for his water glass, and groaned when he found it missing, having forgotten to refill and replace. 

“Angel?” Anthony asked tentatively.

“Nothing, just forgot my water,” Aziraphale sighed.

Anthony made a humming noise and suddenly Aziraphale felt a cool glass of water in his hand. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Aziraphale said.

He gulped down the water gratefully.

“I know,” Anthony said.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said. “Although you shouldn’t be doing so many miracles,” he couldn’t help but scold him. 

“I know, I know,” Anthony said, although he didn’t sound very repentant.

“Are you feeling better?” Anthony asked tentatively.

Aziraphale took his time finishing the rest of his water and placing the empty cup on the end table. 

“Somewhat,” he said.

“I’m here,” Anthony assured him. “Take your time.”

“Okay,” Aziraphale sighed. “I guess I’ll just start from the beginning then.”

“Of course,” Anthony agreed.

“Well, I went to the library when you were asleep earlier today, sorry,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“Angel,” Anthony sighed.

“Well, I had a good reason,” Aziraphale argued. 

“Okay,” Anthony said.

“Well, at first I was a bit worried about you,” Aziraphale started. “So I decided to do some reading.”

“Of course, that’s so like you,” Anthony pointed out.

“Obviously,” Aziraphale replied with a small smile that Anthony couldn’t see. “Anyway, I was worried. You’ve been very tired lately dear, I thought that maybe-” he trailed off.

“Maybe?” Anthony prompted.

“I thought maybe something was wrong with your powers,” Aziraphale confessed.

Anthony let out a quiet exhale. “Oh Angel, I’m fine.”

“You’re exhausted dear,” Aziraphale countered gently. “And I figured out exactly why.” 

“Oh?” Anthony said, cautiously. 

“Yes, you’re brumating,” Aziraphale said with relish.

“I’m what?” Anthony asked, incredulously.

“Brumating,” Aziraphale said with a smirk, although Anthony couldn’t see it. “You’re conserving energy for winter. It’s almost like a form of hibernation.”

“That does certainly explain a lot.” Anthony admitted. 

“It certainly does,” Aziraphale sighed.

“But that’s not what upset you,” Anthony said.

“No, not after I figured out you were okay anyway,” Aziraphale sighed.

“What happened?” Anthony asked. Aziraphale felt Anthony take one of his hands in his. 

“I had another thought, after I finished learning about brumation,” Aziraphale confessed. “About us being...angels,” he trailed off, ending in no more than a whisper. 

“You wanted to learn more,” Anthony realized. 

“Yes, of course I did!” Aziraphale said, suddenly feeling sharp and angry. “There’s just so much I don’t know. I had to know,” he finished, miserably. 

“What did you learn?” Anthony asked. He rubbed a soothing thumb print into Aziraphale’s hand. 

“That I, that we’re...that we might be,” Aziraphale stuttered, struggling to find the words. He felt something break inside him.

“Sh…” Anthony soothed him. He let go of Aziraphale’s hand to gather him completely into his arms.

“Do we even have a choice, in any of this?” Aziraphale said helplessly. He could feel his body tremble.

“Of course we do,” Anthony said immediately.

“Then we’re not, we’re not her right?” Aziraphale asked, blinking through tears.

“No, no we’re not,” Anthony said, and kissed the top of his head.

Aziraphale fought back tears as Anthony held him. He trembled and his cheeks eventually became stained with tears, but Anthony held him through it all.

“We control our own fates,” Anthony said firmly, when Aziraphale had finally calmed down.

“You said she was responsible for everything,” Aziraphale countered.

“Yes, well…” Anthony sighed, heavily. “She is but, it’s different than you think.”

“How is it different then?” Aziraphale asked. “Please, Anthony explain it to me.”

“We can still choose,” Anthony assured him. “I’ll always believe that. But somehow I think she knows what we’re going to do before we even do it.”

“That’s not too reassuring,” Aziraphale said.

“It’s not,” Anthony agreed with a heavy sigh. “But it’s all we’ve got.”

Aziraphale remained quiet for a long while after that. He contemplated Anthony’s words and running different thoughts through his head.

“I don’t think I like that woman,” Aziraphale said, bitterly.

Anthony let out a sharp sounding laugh. “That makes two of us,” he said, finally letting out another helpless laugh.

Aziraphale flinched at the tell-tale sounds of muffled sobs.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s...it’s nothing,” Anthony denied through shuddering breaths.

“Anthony please,” Aziraphale begged. 

“I’m sorry,” Anthony said, sounding wretched. 

“It’s not your fault, none of this is your fault,” Aziraphale assured him. He felt a lump form in his throat. He held Anthony closely in his arms and swallowed thickly. 

Anthony shuddered and sobbed, and for a change, it was Aziraphale that was the tether in the storm. Eventually it passed, and Anthony calmed himself by burying his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“I’m here,” Aziraphale assured him.

Anthony was quiet for a while after that. The sobs subsided, and the shivers weakened to mere trembles. Aziraphale let him take his time together. He ran a comforting hand through his hair and kissed his collarbone.

“I never thought that would happen,” Anthony said, finally. 

“Never thought what would happen?” Aziraphale asked.

“You speaking ill of the Lord,” Anthony said, simply.

It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over his head. “Me?” Aziraphale asked incredulously. He pulled away from Anthony’s chest. “Why on earth wouldn’t I?” he asked.

Anthony let out another helpless laugh. “Because you never have,” he said.

Aziraphale was stunned by the admission. He didn’t know what to say.

“Angel?” Anthony asked, drawing his attention.

“I never knew,” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Of course not, it’s not your fault, your memory-” Anthony rushed to explain.

“I never knew I was such a coward,” Aziraphale cut him off.

Aziraphale could hear the sound of Anthony’s mouth snap shut, judging by the quiet click of his teeth.

“You’re not a coward,” Anthony said.

“I must have been, to let her treat you like that,” Aziraphale said, darkly.

“Angel,” Anthony breathed.

“I just don’t like that foul woman, Lord, whichever. I don’t care if she’s God,” Aziraphale said sharply, feeling the words rush out of him all at once. “I don’t like how frightened of her you are, I don’t like her dubious hand in our current situation. I don’t like her. At. All.” Aziraphale snarled through gritted teeth. 

“Angel,” Anthony said, his voice trembling. 

“She better hope she never crosses paths with me again,” Aziraphale snarled. He felt the anger boiling in his veins.

Anthony breathed out sharply, and Aziraphale could practically hear all of the tension go with it.”You’re a miracle,” he said.

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale rebutted.

“You are,” Anthony repeated. 

He took both of Aziraphale’s hands in his own, cupping them together and gave a tender kiss on each one. Aziraphale felt his face flush and stomach swoop at the gesture.

“Only because you’re with me,” Aziraphale corrected.

“Come here,” Anthony said desperately, pulling Aziraphale close to him. He let Aziraphale’s hands go and threaded them together in each hand instead.

Anthony pressed his lips to Aziraphale with purpose. Aziraphale sighed into the kiss, eagerly meeting the swipe of Anthony’s tongue with his own. Anthony tugged Aziraphale even closer, letting go of his hands and placing them squarely onto his hips.

Anthony’s hands felt hot on his skin. Anthony pulled Aziraphale even closer, and it took Aziraphale a quick moment to realize he wanted Aziraphale in his lap. Aziraphale went eagerly, and let himself be led. He straddled Anthony’s thighs with his own as he leaned in close to Anthony to deepen their kiss. His chest was placed flush with Anthony’s own, and Aziraphale could swear that Anthony could feel the drum of his heart from where they were joined together.

“Yesss,” Anthony hissed.

Aziraphale felt Anthony’s chest rise and expand beneath his own. His lips felt swollen and wet. 

“Anthony, please…” he begged. 

Anthony groaned low in his chest. Aziraphale could feel the rumble of it on his own and felt himself be pulled together with him again. Anthony’s kisses were hot and searing. Aziraphale felt like he was falling apart with the heat of them. Anthony alternated between swiping his tongue in his mount, to giving little bites on Aziraphale’s lower lips, and then neck. Aziraphale felt him jolt at his touch. His body moved and ground down towards Anthony’s without his permission. 

“Angel,” Anthony groaned, the sound higher pitched than Aziraphale was used to.

“We can stop, if you want,” Aziraphale breathed after he tore his mouth away from Anthony’s, breathing heavily.

“No,” Anthony said decisively. “Don’t stop.” 

Aziraphale’s heart nearly stopped at the admission. He could feel heat searing low in his gut. Boldly, he ground down his hips again, and shuddered at the flash of heat that it caused.

“Do, do that again,” Anthony moaned, before attaching his mouth to the pulse point in Aziraphale’s neck.

Aziraphale tilted his neck to the side. He trembled with pleasure as he rocked his hips against Anthony’s again and again. Anthony halted his quest to completely mark up his neck and pressed his lips to Aziraphales once more. It felt wonderful to kiss Anthony again, it felt like coming home. 

They kissed and kissed, rocking their bodies against each other. Aziraphale lost himself to the sensation. He could feel Anthony’s hardness against his own, his trousers becoming almost unbearably tight and damp with sweat.

They created a rhythm together with their bodies, exchanging deep kisses and finding pleasure in each other. As they moved against one another, Aziraphale could feel himself become more and more undone.

“Anthony,” he cried almost desperately. “Please!” he begged, although he wasn’t exactly sure what he was begging for. More heat, more pleasure, maybe.

Anthony mumbled in Aziraphale’s ear, holding him close and gripping him tight. Aziraphale could feel his body thrum with tension, the heat, the pleasure of it all. It was quickly becoming too much. He wanted it to end and at the same time, he never wanted it to stop. 

“I’m close,” Anthony whispered in his ear. 

Aziraphale cried out at the admission, grinding down even harder and breaking the careful rhythm they had created, and felt something white hot build quickly inside him. It was one, two, then three more powerful almost painful thrusts that pushed Aziraphale over the edge. 

Aziraphale shuddered and gasped, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure. He slumped bonelessly into Anthony’s chest, breathing in his scent and making sense of his racing heart. Aziraphale let his heartbeat settle as he felt clever fingers card through his hair.

“All right?” he heard Anthony ask happily. 

“Splendid,” Aziraphale breathed, still trying to catch his breath.

Anthony grumbled in approval. It took a little while longer for Aziraphale to get his wits about him when he came to a realization. 

“Anthony!” he gasped.

“Yes?” Anthony asked curiously.

“I didn’t, I mean-” Aziraphale fidgeted awkwardly. “Did you-?” he asked meaningfully.

“Oh yes, I did,” Anthony laughed, giving a tight squeeze to Aziraphale’s hip affectionately. 

“Oh, erm-good,” Aziraphale stuttered awkwardly. 

“Come here,” Anthony said, lying down and taking Aziraphale down with him.

They lay down together, Aziraphale held closely in Anthony’s arms. Aziraphale listened to the steady beat of Anthony’s heart, his ear pressed closely to his chest. Aziraphale enjoyed the quiet afterglow until the wet sticky sensation from before couldn’t be ignored.

“Anthony, could you-” Aziraphale started before flushing.

Anthony made a questioning sound that grumbled in his chest. 

“I feel a bit dirty,” Aziraphale confessed. 

“Okay,” Anthony said when he understood. 

Suddenly Aziraphale felt a light tingling sensation all around his body and he felt clean and refreshed.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale sighed. 

He fell asleep with one ear to Anthony’s chest, feeling better than he had in days. Even if everything else around them was falling apart, this was at least one thing that was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done, this one ended a bit spicy so I hope you all like it. Also please don't leave the house with a fireplace on lol, I don't blame Az for worrying about the house burning down. Let me know what you guys think.


	24. Chapter 24

Aziraphale and Anthony edited their routine after that night. Aziraphale still liked to cook and explore the grounds during the day, but the nights of passionate kisses paled in light of the new status quo between them. 

Anthony didn’t hesitate to touch Aziraphale anymore. In fact, more often than not, he was the one that reached out for him. Aziraphale found that he quite liked it when Anthony touched him, very much so, in fact.

It was only the following night when Aziraphale found himself laying down in bed, flat on his back, clutching the pillow behind him desperately as Anthony grinded down on him slowly and lightly raked his fingers down his bare chest teasingly. 

“Anthony,” Aziraphale moaned, pushing his hips up hopefully. “Please,” he gritted out. 

“Please what?” Anthony asked coyly, slowing down his pace to an agonizing crawl. 

“Please go faster,” Aziraphale huffed out. 

“Hmm,” Anthony hummed thoughtfully. 

To Aziraphale’s absolute horror, Anthony did the exact opposite of his request. Instead he rolled off of Aziraphale completely, causing Aziraphale to let out a long groan of frustration.

“Anthony please,” Aziraphale found himself begging.

“Shh,” Anthony soothed him, sidling up to Aziraphale’s side and leaning over and giving him an absolutely filthy kiss.

Aziraphale met his fervor equally, giving as good as he got. His blood thrummed, and his body was eager and wanting. Aziraphale felt a light hand skim across his chest over his stomach and skim its way down. He jumped at the touch. He unlocked his mouth from Anthony’s and panted harshly.

Anthony paused when he reached the waistband of his trousers, fingering the edge almost in contemplation. Aziraphale was about to lose his temper when Anthony’s hand slipped underneath the edge of his waistband and took Aziraphale’s hard length in hand.

Aziraphale’s hips lifted off of the bed at the sensation as Anthony gently held him in his warm hand. 

“Please,” Aziraphale begged, his voice desperate and breathless.

“Yes,” Anthony said, and rubbed him gently.

Aziraphale shuddered in Anthony’s grasp, wanting to move his body closer to his touch. At the same time, he almost wanted to pull away as the pleasure was almost too much.

Anthony must have performed a quiet miracle because suddenly his hand was slick with some sort of oil. His grip around Aziraphale became more smooth and exquisitely good. Aziraphale twitched at the feel of it as Anthony began to stroke him up and down slowly, and then more quickly.

“Feel good?” Anthony murmured in his ear as he picked up the pace.

Aziraphale let out a strangled sort of groan in response. Anthony kissed his forehead and began to move in earnest. It wasn’t that much longer before the white hot pleasure swept over Aziraphale and he was spilling into Anthony’s hand with a strangled shout.

He breathed heavily as Anthony murmured into his ear, telling him how beautiful and wonderful he was. Aziraphale took in deep rattling breaths to settle his racing heart. 

“Anthony, come here,” Aziraphale said when he caught his breath. He pulled Anthony close to him and into his arms.

Anthony let out a low breath and went willingly, settling against Anthony’s chest and tangling their legs together. They exchanged slow kisses before breaking away.

“That was…” Aziraphale trailed off with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Anthony agreed, shifting a bit against Aziraphale.

It took Aziraphale a second to realize that Anthony was still hard, feeling the weight of his arousal nestled against the side of his hip.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale said. “Can I touch you?”

He felt Anthony startle a bit against him. “You don’t have to,” he said quickly.

Aziraphale pursed his lips in response although Anthony couldn’t see it.

“Of course I don’t have to,” Aziraphale said. “But I want to, unless you’d rather I not?” he asked gently. 

“No, I’d-I’d like that,” Anthony stuttered.

Aziraphale smiled at the shyness of his voice. He placed his hand on Anthony’s chest and gently trailed it towards his waist. Anthony’s breathing began to quicken. He let out a quiet startled breath when Aziraphale breached the edge of his waistband and slipped his hand inside. He laughed quietly when he found nothing but smooth skin waiting for him.

“What’s so funny,” Anthony asked, a little breathlessly.

“You don’t wear anything underneath for bed either,” Aziraphale pointed out, and pressed his fingertips down firmly into the groove of his hip.

“No, I um-” Anthony stuttered again.

Aziraphale had a sudden thought. He brushed his lips against Anthony’s ear, marveling at the shudder he received in response. 

“I like that,” he whispered. 

“Angel,” Anthony moaned, twitching in Aziraphale’s hand. 

Aziraphale smiled to himself. Boldly, he took Anthony gently in hand, and marveled at the harsh breath Anthony let out in response. Anthony was surprisingly warm in his hand. Aziraphale felt his heart speed up again. He gave a light careful squeeze, hearing Anthony groan in response. Feeling his heart beat even faster, he was about to continue when he realized something.

“Anthony, do you have any more oil?” he asked.

He hadn’t even finished speaking when he suddenly felt his hand covered in warm wet oil.

“Lovely,” Aziraphale breathed as he continued, moving his hand up and down over Anthony’s length.

Anthony shuddered and gasped by his side as Aziraphale gently stroked him. He started off slow and easy, only occasionally gripping slightly tighter or twisting his palm around the tip to keep things interesting.

He tried to copy what Anthony had done to him before, having never done something like this before, at least to his own knowledge. He picked up the pace slightly when he began to feel that Anthony was ready, judging by his quickening breath and lovely sighs. 

Aziraphale experimented a bit, changing his grip, the speed of his strokes, and the pressure of his hand every now and again, listening carefully for any sudden breaths from Anthony to gauge how exactly he liked to be touched.

It wasn’t long before Anthony truly started to become undone. Aziraphale murmured encouragement in Anthony’s ear, brushing his forehead with Anthony's affectionately as he gripped just a little bit harder and moved a little bit faster. 

It was only when Aziraphale gave a quick twist over the head of Anthony’s length did he grumble low in his chest, thrust his hips up into Aziraphale’s hand, and spilled into Aziraphale’s palm. 

Aziraphale guided Anthony through his orgasm, continuing light strokes as he came until Anthony was trembling and over sensitive. By the time he was entirely finished Aziraphale had relaxed his grip and removed it so as not to overwhelm him.

“Angel,” Anthony shuddered, brushing his head against Aziraphale's.

He gave him a deep pleasant kiss and then backed away to catch his breath. 

“All right then?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

“Yesss,” Anthony hissed.

In a quick moment, the sticky fluid stained on Aziraphale’s hand and lower stomach disappeared. Anthony pulled him into another long kiss that made Aziraphale’s toes curl and his head go light in pleasure. 

“That was wonderful,” Aziraphale sighed when they pulled apart.

Anthony hummed in approval, shifting his weight to where he was entirely draped on top of Aziraphale. Aziraphale ran his hand up and down across Anthony’s back, and breathed in his comforting scent. 

Aziraphale lay with Anthony’s weight draped over him for a long time, relishing in the feel of his chest rising and falling with every breath. He had never felt so close to Anthony before. He felt like now they were truly connected, both giving and receiving pleasure in turn.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and cherished the feeling of Anthony’s weight above him and soon fell asleep.

***

Mornings had become slow and lethargic after nights like that. Aziraphale slept in with Anthony the next morning, letting the early morning daylight pass them by in the warmth of their bed. It was only when he felt an ache in his stomach did he begin to rouse. 

Aziraphale steeled himself and took off the covers from his body. He shivered in the cold air, silently kicking himself for taking off his nightshirt before last night's activities. No matter how pleasurable the results were. 

Aziraphale quickly shuffled out of bed towards his wardrobe, changing into the warmest clothes he could find. By the time he was done brushing his teeth and washing his face, Anthony was still curled up in bed, fast asleep.

Aziraphale stared at him for a long while, waffling on whether to wake him for breakfast or leave him be. He had just decided on cooking some sausages and eggs in the kitchen and bringing it back to the bedroom for them to share when Anthony began to stir and poke his head out from under the comforter. 

“Sleep well?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded then paused, before giving a tremendous yawn, his mouth stretched wide by the force of it. 

“Breakfast then,” Aziraphale decided.

After a hearty breakfast of eggs and beef sausage, Aziraphale pulled on his outdoor clothes and convinced Anthony to endure another romp around the grounds. Once outside, Aziraphale breathed in the sound of crisp fresh snow crunching beneath his boots. 

After a little over an hour of enjoying the outdoors, Aziraphale pulled the wagon back inside for them to warm up by the fire, feeling chilled, yet refreshed. After warming up and having another nice hot cup of tea, Aziraphale’s mind felt clear and focused. 

“I’m going to do a bit more research today I think,” he said to Anthony, who was still curled up in the wagon in his blankets and basking in the warmth of the fire.

Anthony made a sharp disapproving noise that Aziraphale deftly ignored. 

“We need to learn more, well, I do in any way,” Aziraphale explained. 

Another hiss was shot his way. 

“There’s no fireplace in the library Anthony,” Aziraphale pointed out. “For obvious reasons. It’ll be too cold for you.”

Anthony looked up at him from his cocoon of blankets and shot Aziraphale a withering glare. Aziraphale stared back, unblinking. Anthony hissed in protest once more, looked down at the wagon, then back at Aziraphale again. 

It took Aziraphale a moment to catch his meaning. “You want me to take the wagon to the library?” he asked. 

Anthony nodded. 

Aziraphale glanced at the wheels of the wagon, which were covered in half-melted snow and dirt dragged in from inside. 

“Fine,” he begrudgingly agreed, already resolving to wipe down the wheels so as not to ruin the carpet. 

Anthony looked decidedly smug while Aziraphale worked to wipe off all of the water and dirt off of the wagon. Anthony sat in the center of the wagon proudly while Aziraphale finished his cleaning, and then began pulling the wagon out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Aziraphale silently resolved to run the hoover over it sometime soon, just in case.

Finally, they reached the door to the library. Aziraphale had to drop the handle of the wagon for a brief moment to open the heavy doors of the library before pulling the wagon in behind him.

The morning sunlight shined through the stained glass windows, draping the room in a colorful array of light. Aziraphale breathed in the comforting scent of books and felt his heart settle.

He led the wagon to the large wooden table at the center of the room, leaving Anthony in the large patch of sunlight that shone through from the nearest window. Anthony hissed in disapproval when Aziraphale began to move towards the shelves.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised a glowering Anthony. “I just need to grab a few things.”

Anthony hissed briefly again, but didn’t make any other sounds of protest. Aziraphale looked through the shelves, and went straight for the section where he found the last book he researched about angels and God. There were other religious and philosophical books in the next few shelves, although much to his frustration, there was still no semblance of organization.

‘One of these days,’ Aziraphale thought darkly to himself, inwardly planning a complete overhaul of the library. 

He shook his head, focusing again on the task at hand. He managed to find a couple of useful looking books. He found a book with a series of religious essays spanning over a large frame of time, another on Buddhist and Hindu religious beliefs, which he carefully put back. He grabbed a book about philosophical musings on death, which he kept out of idle curiosity to firmly be put into a ‘maybe’ pile. He grabbed some other books that might have been in a similar wheelhouse to religion and God in general, before dragging his hoard back to the study table.

Anthony looked at the large stack of books he accumulated with curiosity.

“I know it’s a lot,” Aziraphale admitted. “But we need to start somewhere.”

Anthony nodded in understanding. He floated a book towards himself on the top of Aziraphale’s pile and placed it inside of his wagon. Aziraphale turned back to his own book, but it quickly became apparent that Anthony was struggling. Just as Aziraphale had skimmed through the first chapter of his book, Anthony looked half asleep. 

“You can sleep if you want,” he said to him, drawing Anthony away from the book he was doing his best to read. 

Anthony looked up at him startled. Aziraphale gave him a knowing look. 

“I think I can handle this for now,” he said, gesturing to his books.

Anthony hesitated, but eventually he floated his book back onto the table and settled back into his pile of blankets. He was fast asleep not too long after that. 

Aziraphale felt a lot better knowing that Anthony was getting the proper amount of sleep that he needed. He returned back to his books, speed reading information as quickly and efficiently as possible. He wasn’t entirely sure when or where he picked up the skill, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

It took the better part of the next hour for Aziraphale to skim the table of contents and then some promising chapters of his current book. He read carefully, but eventually cottoned on to the fact that the book might not be as useful as he thought. He sighed, and put it to the side before grabbing another from the pile.

He read for the next few hours, He took out a spare notebook and ballpoint pen he found lying nearby and took notes. He made his way through two more books, dismissing one of them a bit faster than the other. After a few hours of meticulous work and a small dent in his pile, Aziraphale began to notice the ache in his shoulders and the back of his neck from all of the slouching and reading.

Aziraphale sat up in his seat and rubbed at the back of his neck with a grimace. He glanced towards the wagon again. Anthony was still curled up fast asleep, completely invisible for the covers draped over him.

Aziraphale rolled his shoulders and glanced at his meager notes with a heavy sigh. All of those hours of work with barely anything to show for it. Grimacing at the table, he looked towards Anthony, and debated whether or not to wake him for lunch or let him sleep for a little bit longer.

Aziraphale’s stomach rumbled with hunger, but watching Anthony continue to sleep peacefully made up his mind for him. Aziraphale ignored his growing hunger, turning back to his books while he waited. He organized them into some greater semblance of order based on judged usefulness after looking over the table contents of each tome.

It must have been a half an hour of work with a growing hole in his stomach and a crick in his neck until he spotted some movement in the corner of his eye. Aziraphale glanced over, and saw Anthony stir beneath the pile of blankets draped over him and begin to peer around the room.

“Finally awake?” Aziraphale asked teasingly. 

Anthony looked over at him and nodded, pausing and letting out a wide yawn. A sight that made Aziraphale’s smile grow. 

“Lunch then?” Aziraphale offered. 

Anthony nodded again, more enthusiastically this time. Aziraphale left his work on the table and pulled back his chair away from the table to stand up.

He grabbed the handle of the wagon and led them out of the library and back down the hall towards the kitchen. He left the wagon near the kitchen table while he crossed the room to get to the stove. 

He started on a simple yet filling chicken parmesan bake. He prepared the ingredients and started putting everything together while he waited for the oven to heat. He layered on his homemade marinara sauce over the chicken after cooking it in a pan over the stove top and layered a generous amount of parmesan and mozzarella cheese that Anthony had miracled with some considerable effort, along with his own homegrown basil.

He put everything back into the cupboards and washed the excess pans and utensils while the dish cooked. He let it cook for a little over an hour before taking out of the oven and leaving it on a rack to cool.

The room filled with the smell of cheese, tomatoes, and basil. Even Anthony stirred from his dozing inside the wagon to peer across the room. He perked up even more when Aziraphale deemed the meal cool enough to eat and began setting the table and serving their portions.

They dug into their food eagerly, Aziraphale found he had to use his napkin liberally to wipe off all of the red sauce left behind. The meal was delightful and filling, with plenty of potential leftovers, judging by the large amount he had made. 

After their bellies were full and all of the dishes cleaned and clear, Aziraphale seriously considered taking a short nap instead of heading back to the library. The thought of being in the library without the warmth of fire soured any thoughts of returning to his research. 

He glanced back at Anthony, settled into the wagon again and dead to the world, and felt his resolve strengthen. He took care to pull the wagon gently back down the hall so as not to jostle and wake Anthony. He opened the doors to the library and back towards his research table to his towering stack of books.

Aziraphale let go of the wagon and settled down in his seat. It was slow going at first. He was still sleepy with fullness, and already missed the warmth of the roaring fire back in the kitchen. Quietly reminding himself to bring a blanket for himself next time and shivering in his jumper, he turned back to his books. 

Eventually he got back into the groove of research, writing down notes and inspecting and dismissing passages of his book quickly and efficiently. He finished one book and then another, taking some careful notes, but not finding much in the way of promising information. It was only when he reached for the next book did he find something interesting.

“Angels and Demons,” Aziraphale read the title of the cover under his breath.

Aziraphale cracked open the book eagerly and quickly skimmed over the table of contents. It looked like it might actually have something useful. Aziraphale read through the introduction of the book, the author citing a few other texts as they went into their thesis analysis of religious works referring to the divine victory of God and his angels over the demonic world.

Aziraphale snorted at the reference of God being a man before pausing. He read over the paragraph again. 

“God and his angels' victory over demons?” he asked himself. 

He quickly wrote down a note and continued reading. The author went into the state of nature of being an angel, whatever that meant. Most of their points were very theoretical, causing Aziraphale to snort to himself at a choice few of them. He felt himself straighten in his seat, however, when he started the next chapter. 

“How angels became demons,” Aziraphale read, his heart falling into his stomach at reading those words.

The author theorized about the nature of God and their creations, asking rightfully if God created everything, then where did such malevolent spirits come from? They argued in the case of spiritual beings, such as angels, the idea was that such evil came by only the wrong choice made in their freedom.

Aziraphale continued to read with his heart in his throat. The author argued that there was no evil prior to sin. He went into the history of angels and demons, and someone named Satan, whomever that was. Satan fell and was cast out from heaven and other angels followed him, therefore becoming evil, and causing an evil presence in the world. 

The author then went through a few more theories about the creation of demons, and used various references from other texts to back their argument. Aziraphale wrote them all down to look up later, but the line that most caught his attention was the line that stated that demons were ‘fallen’ angels cast out of heaven by God. 

Aziraphale felt his hand shake reading that passage. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. His mind reeled with the implication. The author claimed with some religious passages to support his theory, that Satan was some higher ranking angel that took about half of the angels of heaven down with him. 

Aziraphale winced at the number. That was a lot of angels that had angered God. His reticence to take the flaming sword, and his fear of angering God suddenly became clear. Not the best boss to have when she was so quick to violent retribution and anger. 

Aziraphale glanced blankly at his notes and processed the new information. Logically, if mythical creatures like angels were real, then it made sense that demons would be too. Still, Aziraphale’s stomach churned at the thought of such malicious creatures lurking about. He wouldn’t want to get on the wrong end of one of them. 

Aziraphale felt his mind go blank at the thought. He clutched the book tightly in his hands in sudden realization. Angels were creatures that were in some way, an extension of God. Demons were angels that had been cast out of heaven by God. Aziraphale thought back to the first memory he regained. He thought back to that blurry battlefield, and the flaming sword in his hand. 

He thought back to the other memory he regained; him standing on a towering wall overlooking a desert, and the feel of warm air fluttering through his wing. He thought of a battlefield with angels on one end and demons on the other. He thought of pitch black cellars with doors that slammed shut. 

Aziraphale thought and thought, his mind swirling with them. He heard a dull roaring in his ears that was growing louder and louder. It took Aziraphale a moment to realize that he was panicking. 

“Fuck,” he said, feeling his chest beginning to constrict. He buried his head in his hands and tried to control his breathing.

Aziraphale tried desperately to get his breathing under control, inhaling and exhaling in deep shaky breaths. He heard a sharp sounding hiss come from his side. Aziraphale lifted his head from where he buried them in his arms and looked up towards Anthony. Anthony looked at him in alarm, his body fully risen in the wagon. Aziraphale offered him a weak smile.

“I’m okay, just um-” Aziraphale said, trying to explain his feelings properly.

Anthony moved out of the wagon and onto the floor, approaching Aziraphale cautiously.

“Anthony, no, it’s too cold here-” he started. 

Anthony ignored his protests and placed his head in Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale let out a shuddering sigh, feeling the fight deflate out of him. 

“I think that’s enough reading for today.” Aziraphale said. 

Anthony nodded quickly in agreement. Aziraphale left his work at the table while Anthony slithered back into the wagon. Aziraphale stood on shaky legs, rattled, but still felt a bit more sorted under Anthony’s careful eye. He dragged the wagon out of the library down the hall and back into the living room where a roaring fire in the fireplace welcomed them.

Thankful again for Anthony’s careful magic warming the house, he moved towards his favorite armchair. He was about to sit down when another hiss from Anthony drew his attention. Anthony gazed at him from the center of the wagon, crawling his way out of it and onto the floor. Aziraphale watched him approach curiously. Anthony stopped close to Aziraphale then rose his upper body until he met Aziraphale’s gaze evenly. Aziraphale let him do it, searching in his eyes for comfort.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, raising a hand and stroking the top of his head.

Anthony hissed lowly at his touch, flicking his long serpentine tongue near Aziraphale’s wrist.

Anthony looked at Aziraphale, and then turned his neck back towards the lounge. Aziraphale followed his gaze curiously and found a familiar chessboard waiting at the center of the cushions. 

“Oh Anthony, that sounds lovely,” Aziraphale breathed, feeling his heart settle a bit.

Aziraphale turned and followed Anthony to the lounge, settling on one side of the lounge and Anthony on the other. Aziraphale tucked one of his legs underneath him and the other dangling over the side of the lounge. Anthony curled his long tail underneath him and looked at the board curiously. 

“White or black?” Aziraphale asked, getting the pieces ready for the board.

Anthony floated the black queen towards himself and began to set up the black pieces on his side of the board. Aziraphale did the same with the white pieces on his end, and made his first move. It was calming for Aziraphale to focus on the particulars of the game rather than his anxiety and new frightening realization. His heart filled with warmth and he shot a quick glance at Anthony across from him as he gazed down at the board in concentration. Anthony always knew how to calm him down and cheer him up. 

Aziraphale focused on the game as his chest swelled with love, knowing he must have looked a bit silly with the dopey smile on his face. Anthony must have noticed at one point, because he was looked distinctly pleased with himself. 

The game was long, but challenging. Aziraphale took care to place each piece, pausing often on his turn to contemplate the best strategies. Anthony in turn moved his pieces much quicker than he did, only pausing occasionally during a difficult play. Despite Aziraphale’s careful planning, Anthony brought him to checkmate. 

“Wonderful game, as always,” Aziraphale said, not too fussed about losing. 

Anthony hissed in pride, and set the pieces back into their proper places with a quick flick of his tail. They played a few more rounds for the remainder of the afternoon, stopping only when Aziraphale’s stomach began to rumble. They paused midway through their game at the sound. 

“Dinnertime then?” Aziraphale suggested. 

Anthony nodded eagerly in agreement. They left the pieces on the board to continue later and left for the kitchen. Aziraphale started the oven up again and heated up the leftovers from lunch. He poured some rose wine for each of them and brought it all to the table. Dinner was as delicious as before, made even better by the wine.

By the time the food was all eaten and the dishes were done, Aziraphale was pleasantly buzzed. 

“Shall we finish our game?” he asked afterwards.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically in agreement. They moved back to the sitting room, with Anthony banishing the fire in the kitchen hearth as they went. Aziraphale took the bottle of wine with him for good measure as they went, feeling loose and relaxed. 

They sipped wine together and resumed their game. Aziraphale found that he wasn’t being as careful making each move, but he also didn’t mind as much. Aziraphale sipped his wine, his second glass of the night, feeling flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the fire. Anthony made another move, and it took him a moment to realize that Anthony had moved him into checkmate. 

“Well done,” Aziraphale said with a smile. 

Anthony’s golden eyes flashed in pride. He made to reset the board again, but Aziraphale stopped him with a raised hand. 

“How about a different game?” he suggested. 

Anthony nodded, putting the board back in its proper place with a quick miracle. He looked a bit more winded after he did it. Just when it looked like he might miracle another game, Aziraphale stopped him again.

“Let me get the next one,” he said, and stepped from the lounge. He stood a bit unsteadily onto his feet, stumbling a bit as he made his way across the room to the stray stack of cards they left on the windowsill a while back.

Aziraphale grabbed the deck of cards and sent a brief look out the window. The sun was just beginning to set, giving them a little more time to finish a card game or two before having to turn in before nightfall. 

The sky was a rich golden color. The sunlight glittered over the snow as shadows began to grow. Aziraphale watched them carefully before turning back to Anthony. They played a few rounds of rummy before the sun continued to set. Anthony called it a night by putting the deck back in its container and letting out a large yawn.

They stuck close to each other as they made the trek down the hall and back to the bedroom. Aziraphale washed up and prepared for bed, as the wine he consumed earlier made him sleepy. The sheets were warm and cozy from the hot water bottle already when he climbed into bed. 

Anthony moved close to him, and placed his head over Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale smiled at the comforting weight over his heart.

“Goodnight,” Aziraphale whispered. He was warm, cozy, and sleepy with wine, and soon, he fell asleep.

***

Aziraphale woke late into the night, his mouth dry with thirst, but thankfully suffering no headache. He reached for his water glass that he usually kept on the end table carefully, pleased when he managed not to knock it over. He gulped down the water greedily and sighed when he was done.

“Much better,” he said, and placed the now empty glass on the empty table. 

“Feeling better,?” he heard Anthony ask from his side.

“Yes, thanks to you,” Aziraphale answered. 

“What happened?” Anthony asked. Aziraphale could hear the anxious tone in his voice as clear as day. 

“Oh I just came to another terrifying realization is all,” Aziraphale said, flippantly. 

“Oh,” Anthony asked.

“Yes, well on top of having to worry about our Lord, apparently demons are real,” Aziraphale sighed.

He heard Anthony let out a sharp rattling sigh. 

“Is that all?” he asked with a laugh, but to Aziraphale’s ears, it sounded anxious.

“Well that and the fact that they’re the ones most likely targeting us,” Aziraphale answered with a frown. 

Anthony didn’t respond.

“Unless I’m wrong of course?” Aziraphale prompted. 

“No, you’re not wrong,” Anthony said tiredly.

“Brilliant,” Aziraphale sighed. “Do I even want to know how I managed to anger such creatures?”

Aziraphale heard Anthony suck in a sharp breath.

“What’s wrong, is it that bad?” Aziraphale asked.

“It’s, Angel I don’t know how to explain,” Anthony began.

“You don’t have to say if you don’t want to,” Aziraphale rushed to assure him.

“It’s not that,” Anthony sighed.

“Anthony, I know there’s only so much you can tell me,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll figure it out, I promise.” 

Anthony didn’t respond, leaving Aziraphale to think in silence. Aziraphale went over the facts in his head. He was an angel, and judging from Anthony’s powers, he was too. Aziraphale quickly ran over the few memories he was able to regain. He thought back to that battlefield with the flaming sword in his hand. He thought back to Anthony’s words many nights ago about him, and Aziraphale being on opposing sides.

“Shit,” Aziraphale realized, his eyes widening in the pitch dark. “Oh shit, Anthony I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Angel, it’s okay,” Anthony said.

“It’s not okay,” Aziraphale swiftly corrected him. “You’re nothing like them, you know that right?”

There was a tense moment of silence before Anthony let out a shaky breath. “So now you know,” he said.

“I know that you angered her, and she punished you, yes,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“Yes,” Anthony said.

“She cast you out,” Aziraphale realized. 

“Yes,” Anthony admitted.

Aziraphale processed his words, gripping the sheets tightly in his hands. All of a sudden, he felt a sharp visceral anger run through him, and he was white hot with rage. 

“Fuck. Her,” he spat out. 

“What?” Anthony asked, alarmed.

“Fuck her, Aziraphale said again, relishing the words as they came out.

“Angel!” Anthony gasped.

“What, am I supposed to like this foul woman?” Aziraphale yelled.

“Angel she could hear you!” Anthony cried, reaching for his hand.

“Good let her hear then!” Aziraphale shouted, feeling his chest go tight with anger.

That seemed to stun Anthony into silence.

“I don’t care what she thinks,” Aziraphale spat out. “I know you Anthony. I don’t need my memories to know you.”

“Angel,” Anthony croaked out.

“I know that you’re a good person. She was wrong to cast you out. She was wrong.” Aziraphale said, vehemently.

Anthony let out a wet sounding sigh, and reached for Aziraphale. Aziraphale felt Anthony grip him tight, pressing them close and burying his head in Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale felt all of the anger deflate out of him when he felt the damp touch of Anthony’s tears. 

“Thank you,” he said, shuddering in Aziraphale’s grasp. 

Aziraphale held him tightly and let him cry. He didn’t let go, not even when Anthony calmed, not when the tears stopped or the shuddering sighs ceased. He was never going to let him go again.

“What are we going to do?” Anthony asked, finally.

“I-I don’t know,” Aziraphale confessed. “But we’ll think of something, we always do.” 

“Us versus the world,” Anthony laughed.

“And God and her demons,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Angel,” Anthony said, tiredly.

“And her angels too probably,” Aziraphale guessed.

“I-yeah,” Anthony admitted.

“Well, it really is us versus the world then,” Aziraphale said.

“Angel,” Anthony began quietly. “If you don’t want to do this anymore…” he trailed off.

“If I don’t want to, what?” Aziraphale asked in alarm. “If I don’t want to be with you anymore?” he asked.

Anthony’s silence told him everything he needed to know.

“Anthony, I’m not going to leave you. Not now. Not ever,” Aziraphale said seriously. 

“This is my fault Angel, you don’t remember,-” he started.

“I don’t need to remember,” Aziraphale said firmly. “Also I think it’s too late for me to run away now,” he said, shrewdly.

Anthony trembled in his arms. Aziraphale ran a comforting hand up and down his back. 

“We’re in this together,” he said. “There’s no going back now.”

Anthony nodded into his shoulder and didn’t say anything more. They laid down together, with Aziraphale still cradling Anthony in his arms. They held each other for a long time, well into the night. Whatever they did, they would do it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! As always let me know what you guys think. Aziraphale being angry at God is probably my favorite thing here. I too am angry for how God treated Anthony lol.


	25. Chapter 25

After last night’s revelations, Aziraphale amped up his research in the library. He spent entire mornings and afternoons settled in the library, pouring through book after book about angels, demons, and God herself. Anthony kept a careful watch over him in the warmth and safety of his wagon, sometimes flipping through books and essays alongside him, despite his exhaustion.

Aziraphale set himself up with the necessary supplies he needed for long stints in the library. He remembered to bring a thick long blanket to drape over himself to combat the unheated library. It helped to keep the chill away, but Aziraphale still felt his fingers go stiff with cold after long hours of reading. 

Aziraphale also did the unthinkable, and brought some food and drinks to the library. He carefully placed a warm pot of tea over a thick knitted tea cozy carefully on the table, and as far away from the books as possible, while still being in reach. Aziraphale also brought a tray of biscuits he made a little while ago, hoping that the sugar and caffeine would help him focus better. 

It did manage to help him for a time. Aziraphale was able to breeze through a few religious tomes while stopping for a small break every now and again. Anthony helped as much as he could. He skimmed through books and gestured to passages he thought might interest Aziraphale. Aziraphale took a fair few notes that might prove promising in the future, but didn’t come to any significant breakthroughs come lunchtime. 

He and Anthony were happy for the break, eager to stretch their legs, or tail in Anthony’s case, and grab something to eat. Aziraphale heated up some leftover chicken parmesan in the oven and cut some bread for he and Anthony, the last of the loaf, and resolved to bake more later in the day. 

They went outside for a bit for a quick romp in the garden, enjoying the fresh cool air, before heading back inside to warm up in front of the fire. Aziraphale took some time to get started on a fresh batch of dough, carefully mixing together the flour, yeast, an egg, milk and some salt together. Once done, he put the dough to the side in order to let it rise properly.

Aziraphale went back to the library after cleaning up the kitchen for the better part of the afternoon, hunched over his books and huddling under his thick blanket for warmth. Despite the hours of research he put in that afternoon, nothing else truly proved fruitful, and he called it a day by late afternoon. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were sore from reading for so long. He pushed his books away from him in disgust, rubbing at his eyes and wincing at the headache that was beginning to form. 

“That’s enough for now I think,” he said to Anthony who was settled in his wagon, reading over a book and trying not to fall asleep.

Anthony looked up at Aziraphale blearily. He dropped the book back onto the table. Aziraphale didn’t care enough to chastise him for all but throwing the book into the table, thoroughly sick of research. 

Aziraphale took them back to the kitchen, placing the now risen bread into the oven and starting a nice vegetable stew for supper. The two of them enjoyed a nice warm supper of fresh bread and hot stew. Aziraphale felt significantly better after a long frustrating day with a full stomach and a glass of wine in hand. He enjoyed his evening further when he and Anthony relocated in the sitting room with wine and a deck of cards, a relaxing end to a tiresome day. 

Aziraphale and Anthony settled into bed gratefully that night, sleepy from their hard work, food, and wine. Over the next several days, he and Anthony worked together during the day on Aziraphale’s research, breaking for meals during the day and resting for the night. Aziraphale and Anthony enjoyed some outdoor time, usually during the late mornings and early afternoons before lunchtime. 

He and Anthony poured over book after book, Aziraphale filling pages of notes, largely about religious and theoretical notes, anything that might possibly jog his memory about his time as an angel. Anthony said that might give them an edge over their enemy. It was only during one night after a long day of research mentioning the various tiers of hierarchies of angels and demons, did Aziraphale remember something important. 

“Anthony,” Aziraphale said. “Where did you get those feathers?” he asked, already guessing the answer.

“I imagine you know by now,” Anthony said wryly.

“Humor me,” Aziraphale smiled.

“We, well we-” he fumbled.

“We?” Aziraphale prompted, sensing Anthony’s embarrassment.

“Exchanged feathers,” Anthony mumbled. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, not fully understanding.

Anthony didn’t say anything after that. 

“Is that something special?” Aziraphale guessed.

“Yes,” Anthony confessed.

“And I don’t remember it,” Aziraphale concluded.

“Angel, don’t blame yourself,” Anthony said, in a rush to comfort him.

“It’s okay, I’m just a bit upset,” Aziraphale admitted.

“You want to know something?” Anthony asked, suddenly.

“Many things,” Aziraphale said. “What is it?”

“You didn’t want to do it for ages,” Anthony explained.

“No?” Aziraphale asked. “Why ever not?”

“Oh many reasons,” Anthony said, cryptically.

“Oh you,” Aziraphale said, with exasperation, and he rolled his eyes in the dark. “Was it because you’re a-” he fumbled. “You know…” he trailed off.

“A demon,” Anthony finished for him.

“Erm, yeah,” Aziraphale said, uncomfortably. 

“Partially, I think,” Anthony admitted.

“Well, what else was it then?” Aziraphale asked. 

“You never said for sure, but I had my own theories,” Anthony said.

“Being?” Aziraphale prodded.

“Well for start, you were very shy about the whole thing,” Anthony explained.

“Shy?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes, and I think you also enjoyed...well,” Anthony said.

“Well come on, now I need to know,” Aziraphale urged him.

“I always thought that you enjoyed teasing me,” Anthony confessed.

“Well now, that does sound like me,” Aziraphale smiled. 

“You haven’t really changed much,” Anthony said. “Memory or no memory.”

“But I have changed then?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask.

“You’re the same in all of the ways that matter,” Anthony assured him. “But maybe you are just a little bit different, sometimes,” he admitted.

“In what ways?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well…” Anthony trailed off.

Aziraphale frowned at Anthony’s reticence. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s shy?” he asked.

“Very funny,” Anthony said. But he didn’t say anything else.

Aziraphale let him keep his silence, thinking the problem over in his head. Anthony said he hadn’t changed much and Aziraphale could easily agree with that, but whatever it was that made him different now made Anthony uncomfortable. Aziraphale thought it over a bit more, and then wanted to kick himself when he realized the answer, it being so obvious.

“Oh, you mean me hating the Lord,” Aziraphale asked, easily.

“Angel!” Anthony hissed.

“What, are you frightened of her?” Aziraphale asked. 

“That’s not, Angel please…” Anthony said, anxiously.

“Maybe it’s easier for me not to be afraid of her,” Aziraphale reasoned. “Since I barely remember her and all.”

“Well, maybe,” Anthony stuttered.

“I don’t think I like who I was too much though,” Aziraphale mused, darkly. “Before all of this I mean.”

“Don’t say that!” Anthony protested.

“It’s true though,” Aziraphale countered. “I should have never cowered before her. I should have stood up for you, I should have-” he cut off as his eyes began to sting with tears. 

“Angel, please,” Anthony said as he pulled him closer.

“Why didn’t I defend you?” Aziraphale asked in frustration, blinking back tears.

“There was nothing to be done,” Anthony answered simply. “She’d have hurt you too,” he said, while running a hand through Aziraphale’s hair.

“You mean she’d have cast me out too?” Aziraphale asked.

“And down there, yes,” Anthony sighed.

“Foul woman,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath.

“Let’s try not to focus on her too much,” Anthony said. “It never leads to anything good when you do.”

“Speaking from experience?” Aziraphale asked.

“All too well,” Anthony answered. 

“I’ll try not too,” Aziraphale promised. “It just makes me so angry,” he said exhaling a sharp breath.

“I know Angel, I know,” Anthony soothed.

“We’re running out of time,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but blurt out. 

“We’ll make it, we’ve already come so far,” Anthony said. 

“I hope that we do,” Aziraphale sighed. “I really hope that you’re right.”

“So do I,” Anthony agreed. 

They didn’t speak any more of the subject after that for the rest of the night, choosing instead to hold each other close in silence. 

Aziraphale woke up the next day later in the morning. Anthony’s long body was curled around him possessively. Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat when he realized how closely they were together. He ran his hand up and down the long length of Anthony’s body, mesmerized by the feel of rough scales beneath his fingertips. He tried and failed not to wonder what it would be like to run his hand over smooth skin in the light of day.

Aziraphale sighed after a long time of petting Anthony and dressed for the day. Anthony woke up after Aziraphale took his bath and dressed sometime later. Together, they moved to the kitchen and ate a breakfast of sausages and toast with jam, after which Aziraphale then prepared a strong pot of tea and grabbed the tin of biscuits, now nearly empty. 

They spent the rest of the morning researching Aziraphale’s religious texts, breaking only for lunch and a turn around the garden, before heading back to the library again. Aziraphale learned some more interesting things about the hierarchies of angels. Apparently archangels were some important figures in the hierarchy. Despite the work they put in, all of the research they did together didn’t yield any new memories. Still, Aziraphale considered the information gathered to be useful in the end. 

After hours of pouring over books, Anthony finally managed to drag Aziraphale away from his research by mid-afternoon. Aziraphale made some token protests as they left the library, but he was honestly glad to be done for the day, as his eyes tired from squinting at the small print of words for so long. 

Aziraphale and Anthony played chess for a while before hunger finally won over, and Aziraphale gathered them towards the kitchen to start on dinner. Aziraphale cooked some fish over the stove top with some herbs from the cabinet, and a generous amount of butter. He simmered some leftover vegetables with it as well.

Dinner was enjoyable, especially with a glass of wine to go with the meal. Aziraphale enjoyed his glass of warm white wine, but was sure not to drink enough to get fully tipsy. 

“Hmm…” Aziraphale hummed to himself, as he finished his wine and started on cleaning the dishes he had gathered from the table.

Anthony made a questioning noise and looked at Aziraphale from where he settled close to the fire. 

“Do you think that I have time to make some biscuits?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh you just want to eat more sweets,” Aziraphale laughed. “I don’t think making some biscuits would take too long though,” Aziraphale reasoned. “Since we’re all out too.”

Anthony nodded in agreement.

Aziraphale began fetching all of the ingredients he’d need to make them, flicking through one of his recipe books to decide on a recipe. 

“Gingerbread cookies sound good,” Aziraphale said, after skimming through the page. “Although the process looks a bit involved for tonight.”

Anthony made a noise of agreement.

“I think I’ll make gingerbread another day, when we have more daylight to work with,” Aziraphale decided. He turned the page to the next recipe. 

He flicked through the book some more before deciding on a simple recipe for sugar flavored biscuits. He took out the flour, sugar, eggs, and other ingredients he would need and pre-heated the oven.

He started to measure everything out and put all the ingredients together as instructed. Soon enough, he had an inviting image of buttery yellow looking dough waiting to be molded inside of his mixing bowl. 

“Looks good doesn’t it?” Aziraphale asked, scraping a bit of dough with his mixing bowl and trying for a taste. 

“Delightful,” he said, after eating the sugary raw dough.

Anthony made a questioning noise.

“Would you like some too?” Aziraphale asked Anthony, who was still sprawled out in front of the fire.

Anthony made a noise of agreement. 

Aziraphale scooped up a more generous amount of dough with his spoon and went over to Anthony, who after a brief glance, ate it all in one bite. 

“Good?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony nodded enthusiastically.

“Hopefully they’ll turn out alright then,” Aziraphale said. He moved back to the counter and prepared to roll the dough.

Aziraphale rolled small balls of dough and placed them into neat little rows on the baking sheet. It took two full baking sheets before all of the dough was prepared for baking. Aziraphale placed both sheets into the oven, closing the oven door and glancing at the instructions in the book once more for good measure, 

“Now they just bake for about eight minutes. Goodness, that’s not very long is it?” he said.

Anthony made a low hissing noise in agreement.

Aziraphale took out a small hourglass marked per minute from one of the drawers of the cabinet, and prepared the cooling wrack and oven mitts by placing them onto the counter. Soon enough, the hourglass hit the eight minute mark. Aziraphale put on his oven mitts and placed the baking trays onto the cooling racks on the counter. 

Aziraphale let the biscuits cool while he cleaned up the counter and utensils. Anthony had moved away from the fire and looked up at the counter where the biscuits cooled when Aziraphale had finished cleaning up. Aziraphale smiled at him, and wiped off his wet hands with a towel. 

“Want to try one?” he asked.

Anthony looked at him and nodded enthusiastically. Aziraphale smiled and grabbed a spatula scraping off one biscuit for each of them. Anthony bit into the one Aziraphale held out and offered him enthusiastically. 

“Good then?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony let out a sound of agreement, and gobbled the rest up in one bite. 

Aziraphale smiled and bit into his own treat. The biscuit was warm from the oven, and nice and chewy. 

“Lovely,” Aziraphale groaned at the taste. 

Anthony watched him carefully as he finished the rest and then began putting the biscuits into a large tin he pulled from the cabinet. 

“These should do nicely with tea,” Aziraphale said happily, as he put them all away. “Gives us something to look forward to during all of the dreadful reading.” 

Anthony made a questioning noise. 

“Yes, I too occasionally tire of reading, especially when the circumstances are so dire,” he finished, muttering the second part under his breath. 

Anthony shot him a concerned look, but didn’t say anything else. After everything was put away properly, Anthony and Aziraphale moved to turn in for bed.

Aziraphale woke up later that night to the feeling of someone nuzzling his throat and peppering small kisses into his skin.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale called out sleepily.

“Mmm, Angel,” Anthony whispered near his ear, sending a shiver down Aziraphale’s spine. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Aziraphale remarked, letting out a breathy gasp when Anthony nipped at his throat.

“Want to touch you,” Anthony said with heat.

“You are touching me,” Aziraphale laughed. 

“Want to touch you more,” Anthony responded, snaking a hand beneath Aziraphale’s nightshirt. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but lean into the touch, feeling a warm tingle of interest. Anthony moved his lips from Aziraphale’s neck and placed them firmly onto his mouth. Aziraphale leaned into the kiss eagerly, letting Anthony lead him through it and reaching out to touch Anthony in return. 

Aziraphale ran his hands underneath Anthony’s nightshirt, and marveled at the feeling of smooth skin.

“Angel, you feel so good,” Anthony said. He rolled Aziraphale entirely beneath him. 

“Get down here,” Aziraphale demanded, pulling Anthony closer to him and pressing their mouths together. 

They rocked their hips together as Anthony licked his way into Aziraphale’s mouth, setting Aziraphale’s blood aflame with the heat of his touch. 

“I want to try something,” Anthony said as he pulled away from him.

“Okay,” Aziraphale agreed, readily. 

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Anthony insisted. “I’ll stop if you want me to, just say the word.”

“Yes of course,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony quickly began unbuttoning Aziraphale’s nightshirt with a speed that surprised Aziraphale. Once his shirt was fully open, Anthony moved to mouthing at his chest. Aziraphale gasped at the warm feeling of his mouth and felt a bolt of pleasure run through him. 

“Anthony please,” he gasped, rolling his hips upwards towards Anthony again and again.

Anthony hummed in response, licking one of Aziraphale’s nipples, before latching onto the other. Aziraphale groaned at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling. Aziraphale could feel himself become harder as Anthony continued to lap at his chest and then jerking at the feeling of his mouth moving to his lower stomach. 

“Don’t stop,” he breathed out, grabbing the top of Anthony’s head and running his hand through his short hair. 

Anthony continued licking at Aziraphale’s skin and moved further downward. Aziraphale panted as Anthony began fumbling with the drawstring of his trousers. 

“Please,” Aziraphale breathed as Anthony yanked down his sleeping pants. 

Aziraphale breathed harshly as the cold air hit his skin, shivering at the exposed feeling he felt but was far too excited to feel much embarrassment.

Anthony nipped at his hip and just when Aziraphale was about to growl at him to get on with it, Anthony went for it and took his length directly into his mouth. Aziraphale made a strangled noise rise from his throat.

“Oh Anthony,” he moaned, clutching Anthony’s hand tightly in his hand, trying very hard not to buck his hips deeper into the heat of Anthony’s mouth. 

Anthony didn’t answer, instead choosing to focus all of his attention to his goal of driving Aziraphale mad with pleasure. Aziraphale shouted when Anthony took at least half of him into his mouth. The pleasure was greater than Aziraphale could remember ever experiencing before. The wet heat of Anthony’s mouth was nearly unbearable and Aziraphale came to the realization that he wouldn’t last long.

“Anthony,” he breathed out. 

Anthony held onto Aziraphale’s thighs comfortingly as he continued. Anthony moved his mouth up and down Aziraphale’s length before alternating between licking the head teasingly. 

Aziraphale nearly felt his heart race out of his chest and it was beating so quickly. Nearly all of his focus was taken with the intense pleasure and trying and failing to keep his hips from rising from the bed to get closer to Anthony. 

The more Anthony licked, sucked, and teased him with the careful touch of his mouth and the press of his hands, the more Aziraphale felt himself come undone. He began to lose himself to the pleasure, a pleasant haze falling over him where the only thing he became aware of was the sensation of Anthony’s touch.

Aziraphale could feel an intense pressure rise up like an encroaching tide. He felt his hips jerk helpless, heady with the sensation. 

“Anthony,” he shouted desperately. 

Anthony doubled his efforts causing another strangled shout to rise from Aziraphale’s lips. He felt a white hot wave of pleasure and then he was spilling in Anthony’s mouth.

Aziraphale felt his awareness get away from him as he shuddered on the bed. It was a good long while before he found himself coming down from the pleasure. His awareness came back to him slowly, the beating of his heart slowing, the sweat on his skin and the feeling of Anthony breathing heavily on his side.

Aziraphale propped himself back up against the pillows, feeling Anthony shift against his upper thigh and move his cheek atop of it. 

“Anthony,” Aziraphale breathed. “Anthony, let me hold you,” he gasped out.

Anthony slowly slid up his body, tucking his chin on Aziraphale’s collarbone and breathing into his ear. Aziraphale cherished the feeling of Anthony’s chest rising and falling against his own.

“You spoil me,” Aziraphale said after a long moment of comforting silence. 

“Nonsense,” Anthony was quick to disagree.

“Let me please you too,” Aziraphale insisted when the thought struck him. “Let me-”

“Already taken care of,” Anthony interrupted him.

“What?” Aziraphale asked.

“I’ve already, uh…” Anthony trailed off.

“But I didn’t even get to touch you!” Aziraphale protested. 

“Well, I might have been busy doing that myself,” Anthony admitted quietly. 

Aziraphale felt his cheeks warm at the admission. “B-But-” he stuttered. 

“Do you have any idea,” Anthony began whispering into Aziraphale’s ear. “How incredible you sound?” he asked. 

Aziraphale felt his heart thud in his chest.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Anthony asked lowly causing a shiver to run down Aziraphale’s spine. 

“I wanted to touch you though,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but pout. 

Anthony let out a rich laugh that vibrated from his chest into Aziraphale’s own. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he teased.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony chucked again. “Tomorrow then,” he sighed, burying his head into Aziraphale’s collarbone in content. 

Aziraphale felt a wide smile break out at the gesture. He reveled in the haze of afterglow and the soft touch of Anthony’s skin touching his. He fell asleep to the warm weight of Anthony’s body on top of his own and the feel of his breathing in his ear.

***

Aziraphale awoke late the next morning, warmed by the soft sheets and pleasant weight of Anthony’s long body curled up against his own. Aziraphale seriously deliberated between getting up for the day or just rolling over and going back to sleep.

He glanced back at Anthony who was still out cold and curled up by his side. He had already turned back to his serpent form, and not for the first time, Aziraphale wished he could see him in the light of day.

“Maybe just a bit longer then,” he whispered, lying back down and drifting to sleep.

Aziraphale woke up sometime later, feeling refreshed and wide awake. Anthony was still curled up beside him awake and keeping a close eye on him. 

“Good morning,” Aziraphale smiled as he sat up in bed and began to stretch. 

Anthony hissed out a greeting. Aziraphale took his time getting ready for the day. It was only when he wandered into the kitchen with Anthony by his side, did he begin to regret his decision to sleep in.

Just by looking out of the window, and judging by how high the sun was in the sky, Aziraphale could tell that it was already the afternoon. He felt a sour feeling enter his stomach at the thought of all of that time wasted. All of that time he could have spent researching how to get him and Anthony out of this mess.

Quietly resolving to skip his usual walk around the grounds for the day in order to focus more on his work, Aziraphale moved to the stove top. He lit the stove and put the kettle on, and started cooking eggs and sausages. After breakfast, Aziraphale took the teapot full of nice hot strong black tea and the biscuits he made the other day into the library. 

He spent the next several hours with Anthony in the library, pouring over books and writing notes while sipping on tea and nibbling at his food. He worked until sundown, breaking only for a late lunch and then dinner afterwards. Some of the notes he took looked promising, but he still wasn’t able to recover any new memories or figure out a way to get them out of this mess.

Aziraphale tried not to let himself get frustrated as he settled into bed for the night. He would just work harder tomorrow. If he did, then he might glean another memory. 

Despite settling into a strict research routine for the next several days, taking shorter breaks for meals and spending almost no time at all outside, Aziraphale still had nothing to show for it. Aziraphale watched anxiously as the daylight grew shorter and shorter with each passing day. A quiet terror began to grow inside of him. It had been some time now before that last incident with the candle, and Aziraphale was fearful of what their enemy’s next move would be. 

Anthony finally addressed the elephant in the room that night. 

“You’ve been working hard lately,” he remarked, casually. 

Despite Anthony’s easy tone, Aziraphale could still sense an undercurrent of worry beneath it. 

“Yes…” Aziraphale admitted, not even trying to deny it. “I just want to understand.”

“You’ve figured out most of it,” Anthony pointed out.

“But not everything,” Aziraphale sighed. “I still don’t know how they took away my ability to do miracles,” Aziraphale said in frustration. “Maybe if I remember how they did it then maybe…” he trailed off.

“That’s a good idea,” Anthony reasoned.

“I just hope we can do it in time,” Aziraphale sighed.

“It’ll be alright,” Anthony said.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that we’re running out of time,” Aziraphale admitted.

“I hope we’re not,” Anthony said, grimly.

“Anthony, what are we going to do if they come for us?” Aziraphale asked.

“Don’t think about that Angel,” Anthony said immediately. 

“I can’t help it,” Aziraphale said. “Shouldn’t we have a plan or something?” he asked.

Anthony let out a frustrated sounding noise. “I don’t like thinking about it,” he admitted. “But you’re right, we should have a plan, if we can.”

“Good,” Aziraphale said, nodding in agreement. “...So any ideas?”

“Besides run?” Anthony said wryly. “No, not really.”

“Surely you must have some idea?” Aziraphale asked.

“Normally I would,” Anthony admitted. “But as we are now, well…” he trailed off.

“Your powers,” Aziraphale realized. “They’re weakened.” 

“Yes,” Anthony answered.

“And I have none, at the moment,” Aziraphale added.

“Angel,” Anthony breathed.

“So, we’re sitting ducks,” Aziraphale concluded. 

“It’ll be okay,” Anthony answered.

“Will it?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony didn’t respond.

Aziraphale was thoughtful for a few long moments. “So as I understand it,” he began. “Getting our powers back is really our only chance.”

“...Most likely,” Anthony admitted.

Aziraphale let out a long breath, one he felt deep in his bones.

“Right then,” he said leaning back down onto the bed.

“Angel,” Anthony asked. 

“Best to get some sleep my dear, we have our work cut out for us tomorrow,” Aziraphale said. He closed his eyes and tried to think calming thoughts among the frantic beating of his heart. 

Despite his effort, it took some time for Aziraphale to fall asleep. He woke up early the next morning, washed and dressed quickly, and went about his routine. He and Anthony spent long hours in the library that day and then the next several days after that. Together they poured over book after book, searching for answers, anything that might jog Aziraphale’s memory, or give them an idea how to get their powers back. 

Aziraphale sighed into his tea after one long morning of research, his eyes already strained from the effort and his thoughts wavering and lacking in focus. Anthony looked at him, concerned, and hissed loudly to draw his attention. Aziraphale turned towards him curiously. 

“What is it?” he asked.

Anthony looked at him with a stern air about him. Aziraphale quickly parsed his meaning.

“I’m fine,” he reassured him.

Anthony shot him a doubtful look, and slowly and deliberately floated the book he was reading back down onto the table.

“Oh fine, have it your way,” Aziraphale sighed, marking his place with a bookmark and standing from the table.

“What would you like us to do then?” he asked.

Anthony looked at him then turned his head towards the nearest stained glass window and stared pointedly at it.

“You want to go outside?” Aziraphale asked incredulously. “But you hate going outside in the cold!” he exclaimed. 

Anthony made a vague hissing noise in agreement. 

“You don’t have to spoil me,” Aziraphale said, quietly. 

Anthony gave him a sidelong glance and tilted his head.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Fine, have it your way,” he said. He took the handle of Anthony’s wagon and lead it towards the kitchen. 

Aziraphale dressed in his winter coat and warmer clothes that he left near the coat rack by the backdoor leading out to the garden. He dressed quickly, making sure that he was bundled up properly, and then fussed over Anthony, making sure that he was covered properly in his thick blankets.

Once he was sure they were properly geared up for the cold, he opened the door to the garden and led them both outside. The sky was slightly overcast with thick large grey clouds overhead. Despite that, there was still a good amount of sunlight. 

The wind outside was biting cold. It made Aziraphale’s face flush red. There was a fresh layer of powdered snow over the grounds as well.

“It snowed quite a bit last night,” Aziraphale said. He trudged through the snow through his thick boots, and worked all the harder to pull Anthony’s wagon.

Anthony made a noise of agreement beneath his thick cocoon of blankets. Aziraphale moved through the thick snow slowly. Despite the colder weather and overcast sky, Aziraphale found his mood began to brighten. He breathed in the fresh air, letting the cold air chill his lungs before exhaling. Aziraphale gripped the handle of Anthony’s wagon and set off. 

The snow was much thicker than he was used to, and it made it harder for him to pull the wagon through it. Aziraphale took his time moving about the garden, going over some old favored places and discovering new ones. He stopped by the frozen pond, brushed off the large amount of snow compiled on the bench, and sat for a bit, to admire the view. 

This time, the pond was entirely frozen. The ice looked bluer and thicker than the last time Aziraphale saw it. There was also a good dusting of snow on top of it, which suggested that it had been frozen solid for some time now.

The trees were entirely bare and skeletal, save for the large clumps of snow that weighed down their branches. Aziraphale sat on the bench for a while, enjoying the view as much as he could, until he felt the chill from the cold grow to an uncomfortable degree. He sat up from the bench, wiped off the snow sticking to the back of his trousers and cloak, and began to make his way back into the house.

When Aziraphale entered the kitchen again, he was immediately hit with a wall of heat. Aziraphale quickly took off the warm outer layer of clothes, quickly shedding his cloak, gloves and white scarf, and hung them all on the rack of hooks above the fire to dry. 

“Much better,” he sighed, now feeling like he wouldn’t boil under the heat. 

Anthony poked his head out from under the blankets in the wagon.

“Shall I get started on lunch?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony hissed in approval.

Aziraphale began to put together a simple lunch of sandwiches with meat, cheese, and a generous amount of mustard he found lying inside of the pantry. He made two large sandwiches and placed them inside the oven to warm. Aziraphale and Anthony enjoyed the taste of warm bread and gooey cheese.

It was only after everything had been cleared away did Aziraphale start to think he should move to the library to begin on his research again. Aziraphale felt his shoulders slump at the thought. Anthony noticed his sharp change of mood and hissed out a questioning sound. 

“We should move to the library soon,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony looked at him with an air of supreme disapproval. 

“I have to get some work done today,” Aziraphale argued.

Anthony hissed again, more loudly this time in disagreement.

“Yes well, I understand your point,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes.

Anthony made a huffing noise and slid down from the wagon and onto the cold stone floor. Aziraphale inwardly fretted at the sight of Anthony moving away from the warmth of the wagon. He was just about to open his mouth to scold him when Anthony approached the kitchen counter.

Aziraphale watched him curiously as he used his powers to levitate one of Aziraphale’s favorite cookbooks. Anthony quickly flipped through it, moving the pages through an invisible force before settling on one page. Aziraphale glanced at it in curiosity.

“Gingerbread biscuits?” he asked. 

Anthony nodded enthusiastically. 

“Anthony, I just made some biscuits the other day,” Aziraphale argued, trying his best to sound stern while a part of his brain twitched with intrigue.

Anthony moved the book mid-air a bit more enthusiastically. 

“Alright, I see your point,” Aziraphale said. He grabbed the book and read the recipe over.

Aziraphale started pulling out ingredients, tied his apron on, and got to work. He took out a large mixing bowl and started measuring out ingredients. He started by taking a large amount of butter out and softening it a bit in a saucepan over the stove. Once he placed the softened butter in the mixing bowl, he poured in the white sugar he measured out with it. He beat the sugar and butter together until it was perfectly blended and soft.

Next, he added a few eggs and then molasses, a sticky syrup that was quite difficult to work with. After that was mixed in as well, he measured and then added some flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and other spices before mixing it all together.

Finally, after a lot of effort mixing the dough, everything was properly mixed together. He then took out a baking tray and fired up the oven, and began rolling small clumps of dough into small balls and then placing them onto the baking tray. 

By the time he was done, he had about ten minutes before putting on some oven mitts and pulling the sheet out of the oven. The kitchen was filled with the smell of spices and baked sugar. Anthony watched him place the baking sheet onto the cooling rack with interest.

“Now we just need to let them cool,” Aziraphale said. He took off the mitts and began to clean up.

The treats were cool enough by the time everything was cleaned and put away. Aziraphale took one off of the tray and held it out to Anthony first. He ate it eagerly, making a noise of approval when he was done.

Aziraphale took a biscuit for himself and sighed after taking a bite. The taste was a perfect blend of sweetness and spices, the texture soft and chewy. 

“These came out nicely,” he said when he finished his treat, then reaching for another biscuit. Anthony and him ate a few more biscuits before finding some self-control and putting them away in a tin.

“Okay, now we’ll head to the library,” Aziraphale insisted.

Anthony looked up at him in concern and shook his head in disagreement.

“Come now Anthony,” Aziraphale sighed.

Anthony hissed in displeasure once more.

“We’re not going to the library at all today, are we?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony shook his head, confirming Aziraphale’s suspicions. 

“Very well,” Aziraphale sighed. If Anthony wanted to take a break from the library today, then Aziraphale wouldn’t begrudge him for it.

Anthony led them into the sitting room. The fire in the hearth already blazed high, and it filled the room with warmth. Aziraphale smiled at the sight of their favorite chess set waiting for them in the lounge.

“Okay, I’ll play, happy now?” Aziraphale said with a smile.

Anthony hissed in accomplishment. He looked quite pleased with himself. Aziraphale rolled his eyes affectionately. They sat down in the lounge and began to play. Anthony won the first round, but Aziraphale was able to make him work for it, finding himself growing better at the game every time they played. 

Sometime in between the first and second round of chess, Anthony had miracled a bottle of red wine for them to share. Whether he did a miracle to draw it from thin air, or brought it up from the cellar, Aziraphale didn’t know. Aziraphale enjoyed getting pleasantly buzzed while losing round after round to Anthony at chess. By the time the sun had begun to set, Aziraphale felt light and fuzzy around the edges.

“Alright, you win,” he said to Anthony, after losing again and not feeling particularly sorry for it. 

Anthony hissed in a way that sounded like it might have been a chuckle. Aziraphale smiled a warm indulgent smile as he gazed at Anthony, his dark red scales practically glowed in the fire light. 

“Might be time for bed,” he said, after staring at Anthony for a beat too long.

Anthony looked up at him shrewdly before nodding in agreement. Together they went back to the bedroom. Aziraphale brushed his teeth thoroughly in the near dark and washed for bed, while Anthony immediately dove under the duvet. They slept deeply and evenly, and if Aziraphale woke in the middle of the night and gave into the urge to reach out to Anthony to feel the warmth of his naked body on top of his own and thrumming with want, then that was no one’s business but their own.

They didn’t know it then, reaching for each other in the dead of night, but their time together had run out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter finished. Things are coming to a head now. Tell me what you all think below.


	26. Chapter 26

When it all fell apart, they didn’t even see it coming. 

Everything had been going so well. Anthony and Aziraphale had been hard at work combing through the library, trying to look for answers. Aziraphale worked them hard, practically having to be dragged away from his research by Anthony to take a break. 

As time ticked on, Aziraphale found himself becoming more and more stressed about his lack of progress. Anthony did his best to distract him with card games or more demands for sweets, but each time Aziraphale let himself be pulled away from his work, it felt a little too much like giving up.

“Do you think we’re going to make it?” Aziraphale finally expressed one night, cradled inside of Anthony’s arms.

“Angel please,” Anthony said. “Don’t say things like that.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes in the darkness, feeling a wave of exhaustion overtake him.

“I just need to hear what you really think,” he admitted.

Anthony let out a rattling sigh. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “Things aren’t looking very good right now.”

Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat at the admission. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Are you okay?” Anthony asked. 

“Not really, no,” Aziraphale admitted.

“Oh Angel,” Anthony sighed. He squeezed him comfortingly. 

“I want to do something,” Aziraphale said.

“Anything,” Anthony agreed.

“I want you to touch me,” Aziraphale said.

He heard Anthony let out a sharp intake of breath. “I can do that,” he whispered.

Aziraphale felt Anthony reach for him. He pulled him closer by his waist and pressed them flush together. Anthony pressed their lips together and licked his way into his mouth. Aziraphale let him take the lead, and groaned into his mouth.

The kiss started slow, but progressively became more heated. At one point Anthony rolled Aziraphale underneath him. Aziraphale sighed at the sensation of Anthony’s comforting weight on top of him. 

They kissed and kissed, Anthony gently rocking against him, causing Aziraphale to slowly harden in interest. It was only when their clothes began to shed did Anthony speak up.

“I want to try something,” he murmured into Aziraphale’s ear, after making up his neck in a number of bites.

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale hummed with interest.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Anthony quickly added. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale said.

“It’s something we’ve never tried before,” Anthony felt the need to say as well. 

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense,” Aziraphale said.

“I want to be inside of you,” Anthony blurted out.

Aziraphale nearly felt his heart stop. “What?” he asked.

“We don’t have to,” Anthony said. 

“No, I mean it’s all right,” Aziraphale rushed to explain. “I’m just surprised,” he said bashfully.

“Oh, well good then,” Anthony stuttered.

They lay together in silence for a long awkward moment.

“How do we do that then?” Aziraphale asked.

“I’ve done some reading,” Anthony answered.

“You mean you’ve never had that kind of sex before?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, who else would I have done that with?” Anthony argued.

“...Fair,” Aziraphale said. 

“Let me know when to stop,” Anthony said, and then slid down the length of Aziraphale’s body. 

Aziraphale felt himself hold his breath as Anthony slid off his trousers further down and nuzzled his hardened length before swallowing the head in his mouth.

Aziraphale made a strangled noise and jerked at the feeling of Anthony’s warm mouth enveloping him. Anthony bobbed his head up and down Aziraphale’s length, slowly taking more into his mouth and letting himself get adjusted to the feeling. 

Aziraphale’s breath quickened as Anthony sped up his pace and massaged his upper thigh with his free hand. Aziraphale relaxed into the comforting touch and the wonderful heat of Anthony’s mouth. He felt himself sink further back into the pillows as his body melted with pleasure.

“Good?” Anthony asked carefully, removing his mouth from his length for a brief moment in a low voice. 

“Keep going,” Aziraphale urged him.

Anthony went back to gently mouthing at Aziraphale’s hardness and slowly crept his hand between Aziraphale’s legs. Aziraphale jolted when he felt one of Anthony’s fingers brush against his hole. 

“Alright?” Anthony asked nervously, after feeling Aziraphale flinch.

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale assured him. “Don’t stop.” 

Anthony hummed in response. He sped up his pace, taking more and more of Aziraphale into his mouth. Aziraphale felt pleasure rise low in his gut. Anthony carefully ran his finger again against his hole, massaging at the skin, not pressing in, but merely against it.

Aziraphale closed his eyes in the dark, losing himself to the pleasure that was quickly rising. At one point Anthony miracled some sort of slick or oil to help. He was very patient with him. He read the cues of Aziraphale’s body and the sounds of the rattled moans and sighs that he made, and studied exactly where Aziraphale liked to be touched.

Aziraphale tensed again when Anthony finally breached inside him with one oiled finger. He felt himself go still with nerves.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Anthony whispered. “Just relax Angel.”

Aziraphale let out a deep sigh and focused on relaxing his body. Anthony rubbed his upper thigh up and down comfortingly until he knew that Aziraphale had calmed himself.

Aziraphale nearly tensed again when Anthony moved his hand off of his thigh and slowly began to beach him. He let out a long breath and felt himself go pliant. Anthony slowly pushed in and then out, letting Aziraphale adjust to the intrusion. Gradually, he sunk his finger further and further inside, and allowed Aziraphale’s body to dictate the pace. 

“How do you feel?” Anthony asked, quietly.

“Good,” Aziraphale answered. 

“Any pain?” Anthony asked.

“No, it just feels like pressure,” Aziraphale explained. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Anthony said, before continuing.

Anthony was careful to continue slowly. Eventually, he got one finger all the way in, slowly and methodically pressing in and out until it could move more easily inside. 

“I’m ready for another,” Aziraphale breathed.

“Okay,” Anthony said. 

Anthony tentatively added another finger and slowly began to breach through. He focused all of his attention on preparing Aziraphale, his free hand a warm comforting weight on his upper thigh. Aziraphale felt himself soften a bit from the lack of attention. He hesitated a moment, before taking himself in hand.

Aziraphale gently began to stroke himself as Anthony continued to slowly open him up. He let himself enjoy all of the different sensations. After a while, Anthony and he had found a sort of rhythm together. Aziraphale would move his hips minutely forward towards Anthony’s touch as he thrust his fingers deeper inside of him. Aziraphale breathed in and exhaled careful breaths and kept his body pliant and relaxed. 

Anthony took his time stretching him open slowly, keeping a careful ear out for any sign of discomfort. Despite all of the oil and careful attention Anthony used, there was still a hollow sort of burn inside of Aziraphale. Just a few pinpricks of pain that Aziraphale was surprised to find not entirely unpleasant. 

Eventually, Anthony had two of his long fingers sliding easily inside of him.

“You’re doing great Angel,” Anthony praised him.

Aziraphale flushed at the praise, feeling a pleasant sort of tingle rush through him. 

“You can do a little more,” Aziraphale said.

“Okay,” Anthony said, miracling more oil and sliding another finger inside of him.

The burn and stretching feeling Aziraphale felt became more and more pronounced. It was not unpleasant however, Aziraphale was surprised to find himself enjoying the sensation. His body felt loose and relaxed. Just as he found himself beginning to get used to all of the new sensations he was experiencing, he suddenly felt a surprising shock of pleasure. Anthony had moved his fingers deep inside him, causing him to let out a surprised shout. 

“Are you alright?” Anthony asked immediately. Aziraphale felt his fingers go still.

Aziraphale felt his heart race in his chest as he felt himself come down from the intense rush of pleasure. He squeezed his hardness a little more tightly after having felt it jerk at the sensation. His mind buzzed, before remembering that Anthony had asked him a question.

“Do that again,” he breathed, grasping at Anthony’s hand between his open legs with his free hand.

Anthony complied and thrust in again with a bit more force. Aziraphale felt his toes curl and let out a low moan.

“Please don’t stop,” he begged.

“I won’t,” Anthony promised.

Anthony thrust his fingers inside of Aziraphale again and again. Aziraphale thrashed on top of the bed, and clutched desperately at the sheets. The stretch and burn felt amazing, and in perfect contrast with the pleasure Aziraphale felt every time Anthony brushed his fingers against his prostate. He felt himself begin to leak onto his stomach as Anthony picked up the pace.

Aziraphale grabbed his length by the hand and pumped himself up and down as an incredible force of pleasure began to rise inside of him. 

“You’re doing amazing Angel,” Anthony whispered, pressing a gentle kiss onto Aziraphale’s thigh. 

Aziraphale let out a whimper as Anthony sped up his efforts, stretching him more and more, and hitting his prostate again and again. 

The pleasure was almost excruciating. Aziraphale felt the heat rise and rise inside of him as sweat clamored and stuck to his body. There were sounds coming out of his mouth he had never heard himself make before. 

“It’s okay, it’s alright,” Anthony whispered, as he moved his fingers inside of him. 

Aziraphale let out a strangled moan in response, and suddenly, he was flying apart. His body tensed as a wave of pleasure crashed over him and dragged hum under. Aziraphale lost himself in the white hot sensation. He released all over himself his skin sticky with sweat and semen.

The comedown was incredible. Aziraphale’s heart beat like a drum in his chest. He gasped for air. His entire body trembled from the aftershock.

“Angel?” he heard Anthony’s anxious voice ask him, breaking through the fog.

“Amazing,” Aziraphale breathed. 

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale said. He rested a warm hand on Aziraphale’s stomach. 

“I think I might need to wash up a bit though,” Aziraphale pointed out, after his heart rate went down.

Aziraphale then felt a warm tingling sensation wash over him. Suddenly, he was completely clean. 

“I love it when you do that,” Aziraphale said to Anthony.

“I love you,” Anthony responded.

Anthony moved further up towards Aziraphale, the bed creaking as he went. He draped his weight on top of Aziraphale’s tired body and pressed their lips together. Aziraphale sighed at the feeling, and opened his mouth eagerly. They kissed and kissed, licking into each other’s mouths. Aziraphale clutched Anthony tightly to him by the back of his head. 

Eventually, they broke apart. Aziraphale felt his heart pick up again at the heat and intensity of their kiss.

“Angel,” he heard Anthony groan above him. His voice was wrecked with want. 

“Doing alright?” Aziraphale asked coyly, as he felt Anthony’s hardness press against his lower stomach. 

“Angel please,” Anthony groaned. He thrust his hips lightly against Aziraphale’s stomach. 

“Let me help you,” Aziraphale whispered. He reached down and took Anthony in hand.

Anthony slumped on top of him. He pressed more of his weight against him, and let out a low groan. Aziraphale pumped him lightly, enjoying the sound of Anthony groaning and sighing into his ear. 

“Please,” Anthony gasped.

“Please what?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Please, I need…” he trailed off with a sharp sigh.

“What do you need Anthony?” Aziraphale asked.

“I need you,” Anthony said.

“You have me,” Aziraphale answered calmly, taking Anthony in hand. He spread his legs a bit wider to make room, and guided Anthony towards his entrance. 

He could hear Anthony take in a long shuddering breath as he shifted closer to him. Anthony pressed against his entrance, guided by Aziraphale’s careful hand. The oil made Anthony’s length slick and smooth. Aziraphale shuddered at the feeling of Anthony pressed so intimately against him. 

“Angel,” Anthony gasped, his voice thick with desire.

“I need you here,” Aziraphale said.

Anthony slowly attempted to press in. His hardness slipped away from his hole with the slickness of the oil. 

“Sorry,” Anthony mumbled.

“It’s okay, try again,” Aziraphale said, patiently.

Anthony pressed himself to Aziraphale’s entrance again and slipped once more. 

“Press more firmly,” Aziraphale instructed him.

“O-okay,” Anthony stuttered. He pressed forward with a bit more force, steadying himself to keep from slipping.

Finally, Anthony breached inside of him.

Aziraphale let out a quiet gasp at the feeling of Anthony entering him. The sting of entry was more pronounced than it had been with Anthony’s fingers. Anthony paused with just the head inside of him, keeping himself perfectly still.

“Are you...okay?” Anthony asked with ragged breath.

“...Fine, just give me a moment,” Aziraphale croaked out, overwhelmed by the new sensation he was experiencing. 

The burn and stretch of Anthony’s entrance ached quite a bit more than he was used to. Aziraphale closed his eyes in the darkness and willed his body to relax, knowing he wasn’t doing himself any favors if he tensed up.

“Angel, talk to me,” Anthony said, after Aziraphale had remained quiet for too long.

“Go slow,” Aziraphale, finally.

“Are you sure?” Anthony asked.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, firmly.

“Okay,” Anthony said, minutely shifting his hips forward and pressing further inside. 

The burn was much easier to manage once the thicker head of Anthony’s length went through. The pressure he felt inside grew as he felt Anthony slowly begin to fill him. His length was hard and hot inside of him, and if he concentrated, he could feel the beat of Anthony’s pulse inside him.

“Angel, you feel incredible,” Anthony moaned.

“Oh?” Aziraphale laughed.

“Too much?” Anthony asked again. 

“No,” Aziraphale rushed to assure him.

The last thing he needed was for Anthony to spook and for the delicious heat inside of him to disappear. 

“It’s...almost too good,” Anthony muttered above him.

“Don’t come yet!” Aziraphale warned him. 

“I won’t,” Anthony promised quickly.

“Miracle it if you have to,” Aziraphale said sternly.

“Okay,” Anthony laughed.

His laughter shifted into a bitten off gasp as he made one final push through. Aziraphale nearly gasped with him at the feeling of Anthony fully seated inside.

“Let me know if-” Anthony started.

“I know,” Aziraphale interrupted him, the various sensations he was feeling all clamoring for his attention.

When he finally felt he had adjusted properly, spreading his legs a little wider to accommodate Anthony's hips easier, he let out a deep breath of satisfaction. 

“Move,” he ordered. 

“What?” Anthony asked. 

“Move, I’m ready,” Aziraphale ordered impatiently. 

“Okay,” Anthony said obediently, and thrust forward.

Aziraphale wrapped his legs around Anthony’s hips and held him close as he picked up the pace and began thrusting inside of him. He felt another incredible jolt of pleasure when one of Anthony’s more powerful thrusts hit his prostate. The pleasure was incredible, more intense than he had felt before than when Anthony brushed it with his fingers. 

Anthony must have heard his startled gasp because he went still once more.

“Angel?” he asked uneasily.

“Don’t stop,” Aziraphale moaned, moving his hands to Anthony’s back and pulling him flush against him. “Please, don’t-” he cut off when Anthony gave him a sharp thrust angled further inside him. 

“...You,” Aziraphale panted, breathless. 

Anthony laughed in delight. “Better,” he asked, his turn now to play coy. Anthony fell silent and then began thrusting inside of Aziraphale in earnest. Aziraphale clutched at Anthony’s back, all of his words and all of his breath flying away from him in an instant.

They fell into a rhythm, Anthony pushing inside him and Aziraphale angling his hips to meet him halfway. Aziraphale felt himself grow hard at the pleasure, so much so that it was almost painful. 

Anthony angled his thrusts to hit his prostate again and again. There were sounds falling out of Aziraphale’s mouth that sounded almost foreign to him, higher pitched and wracked with desperation. 

The bed creaked beneath them with their movement. The sheets beneath Aziraphale’s body went damp with sweat and the wet oil dripping from between where their bodies joined together. Every bit of movement from Anthony caused an exquisite pleasure.

If the room weren’t already pitch dark, Aziraphale would have screwed his eyes shut in pleasure. Instead, he kept them wide open and unseeing in the darkness. Irrationally, he wished he could see Anthony through the thick shadow.

“Angel,” Anthony groaned, his voice airy and tight. “It feels so good.” 

Aziraphale moaned in agreement, and gasped at another hard thrust Anthony made. Anthony moved his hands from Aziraphale’s hips and reached for his hands in the dark. Aziraphale let his hands fall on top of the bed above his head and curled them with Anthony’s. He held on tight, and didn’t to let go.

“Angel, Angel,” Anthony murmured. He slammed inside him, his thrusts hitting deep and fast now. 

“It’s so good,” Aziraphale croaked out. “ Anthony you’re incredible.” 

Anthony grunted in response, and squeezed their hands together, the sweat making them slick and slide a bit together. 

“You’re beautiful,” Anthony whispered reverently. He thrust in harder and faster now, hitting Aziraphale’s prostate with forceful even thrusts. “You sound amazing, I wish I could see you.”

Aziraphale groaned in response, his senses ringing from the intense pleasure that Anthony was giving him.

“Please, darling please,” Aziraphale moaned, squeezing their hands together once more. 

“Okay,” Anthony said. “Anything.”

He unclasped their hands and shifted them over to Aziraphale’s side. He held him tightly. His hands felt like a warm brand on his skin. Aziraphale felt Anthony shift and sit up a bit more from where he had been half draped over him.

“Going to make you feel so good now,” Anthony vowed, before thrusting into Aziraphale with almost wild abandon. 

Aziraphale held onto the bed sheets behind him for dear life as Anthony thrust each powerful thrust inside of him. He could feel a white hot pleasure building inside of him, his length stiff and leaking between their bodies. Aziraphale quickly felt himself begin to fly apart. He tightened his hold on Anthony’s hips with his legs while Anthony pushed him towards the brink.

“Angel, Angel,” Anthony moaned above him. 

“Darling, I can’t,” Aziraphale sobbed, near mad with pleasure. “Touch me, oh please,” he begged.

Anthony quickly complied, reaching between their aching bodies and taking Aziraphale’s hardness in hand. Aziraphale nearly jumped off of the bed at his touch. Anthony continued thrusting inside while stroking him firmly. Aziraphale felt his body shake and then fly apart as he was hit with the force of his orgasm. 

Aziraphale nearly felt his spirit leave his body, the pleasure was so intense. He stayed floating in ecstasy for an indeterminable amount of time. He felt himself come back into awareness slowly, aware of only the rapid beating of his heart and the sweat on his skin.

“Angel,” Anthony asked him tentatively. 

“Incredible,” Aziraphale breathed. 

Anthony leaned down and kissed him, shifting further inside of him as he went. 

“Angel…” Anthony groaned.

“You’re still…” Aziraphale trailed off, and blinked in the dark. 

“Yesss,” Anthony hissed, his voice strained.

“Come here darling,” Aziraphale said, pulling Anthony’s head towards him again.

Aziraphale sighed into the taste of Anthony’s kiss and explored his mouth with reverent fervor. 

“You can continue now,” Aziraphale said when they broke apart. 

“But,” Anthony protested.

“Please, I want to feel you,” Aziraphale whispered.

He felt Anthony shudder on top of him as he began to move again. Aziraphale sighed at the feeling of Anthony seeking his pleasure with the comfort of his body. He felt a little over-sensitive from his earlier orgasm, but the feeling of Anthony moving inside of him would never not feel incredible. 

Aziraphale tightened his legs around Anthony’s legs to draw them closer together as the rhythm of Anthony’s thrusts became more erratic.

“That’s it darling, you’re almost there,” Aziraphale whispered encouragingly. 

“Angel, I’m-” Anthony said brokenly, as he shuddered through his release.

At that moment, several different things happened at once. 

There was a sudden flash of light that lit up the impenetrable darkness of the room. In a split second, Aziraphale saw a flash of brilliant red hair close to his face. He and Anthony caught each other's eyes, Anthony’s a brilliant gold with slit pupils, exactly like they were when he was a serpent.

Aziraphale only had another brief moment to take in the bewildered expression on Anthony’s handsome face before the light surged more powerfully. It grew hotter and brighter, creating a terrifying arc of flame over the bed. He had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the pure terror reflected in Anthony’s eyes before suddenly, he was gone.

Aziraphale shot up in bed lightning fast, his eyes darting around the room. The embers of the fire in the fireplace dimmed, but still glowed, illuminating through the darkness of the room. Aziraphale could make out the canopy of the bed around him in the dim lighting, the armchair and rug close to the fire, and his beloved wardrobe across the room, but no matter how much he searched with his frantic eyes, Anthony was nowhere to be found. 

Aziraphale felt bile rise in the back of his throat as his heart beat rabbit quick in his chest. He began to look around the room more frantically, and leapt out of bed with haste. 

“Anthony, Anthony!” he shouted. His voice cracked with panic.

Despite his pleading, there was no answer to be found. Aziraphale felt his chest tighten as his panic rose, and tears began to sting his eyes.

“Anthony!” he shouted again. “Anthony, answer me!”

The fire in the hearth flickered, but there was only silence in return. Aziraphale made for the hearth and approached the dying embers. His eyes scanned the hearth carefully, looking for any sort of clue. There was fire right before Anthony vanished. Had their enemies used the fireplace to-

Aziraphale broke his train of thought, swallowing thickly. His mind began to quickly piece everything together. 

“They came through the fire,” he whispered in horror. 

Aziraphale approached the hearth even closer, desperately searching for clues. He didn’t know why, but the remaining embers in the fire filled him with unease. Even when he pulled his face close to the embers to search for answers, everything inside of him recoiled.

Aziraphale gazed into the remains of the fire, but no matter how hard he tried, the answers didn’t show themselves. Aziraphale felt his shoulders slump as a sob broke through him. He felt his knees go weak and then collapse as he felt bare skin hit the soft rug beneath him. His body shook and shook with hysterical sobs.

Aziraphale felt his chest grow tight as hot tears streamed down his face. His breath grew short and tight, making it difficult for him to breathe. A distant part of his mind acknowledged that he was panicking, but the majority of him couldn’t be bothered. 

Anthony was gone.

Aziraphale let the wave of grief wash through him. He gripped at the rug beneath him with both hands, his body shaking with the force of his cries. He had no idea how long he stayed there for, gasping for breath, the panic nearly overwhelming. 

It took him a long time to come back to himself. Eventually, he felt like he ran out of tears, hollowed out inside. Aziraphale stared at the floor blankly, feeling worn and wrung out. He took in a deep shuddering breath and slowly rose from the floor. 

The room was still dark with the shadow of night, but the uncanny thick darkness of before seemed to have lifted. All at once, Aziraphale suddenly became aware of the cold winter air on his bare skin. Aziraphale shuddered, and felt gooseflesh rise. 

He stood up onto his feet with shaky legs. His skin felt sticky with dry sweat. He desperately needed a bath, but after everything he had just been through, he just wanted to curl up in a ball in bed. 

Brokenhearted, Aziraphale realized there was not much he could do until daybreak. Aziraphale stumbled back into bed, shaking from cold, but mostly from grief. 

Aziraphale climbed under the covers and rolled over towards Anthony’s side of the bed. The sheets still smelled like the scent of their lovemaking. Aziraphale fought down another sob and pulled the sheets over him, wincing at the wet spot at the center of the bed, and moved further to the side to avoid it.

He lay there for a long time, alone, cold and shivering in the dark. For once, he did not feel the pull of sleep take him in the cover of night. Instead, he felt wide awake, small and helpless in the face of what he had lost. It was only hours later did the sun begin to rise and the light from the crack in the doorway begin to brighten the room.

Aziraphale sat up in bed slowly. He slid out of bed and slowly walked towards the door to the room. He opened it wide to let the weak morning sunlight shine in from the hallway. It was even harder for him to see the bedroom without Anthony in the cruel light of day.

Aziraphale shuffled over to the bathroom and started the tap. His body felt sticky and grimy from the night before. Once the tub was full, he slowly sank inside the water. He sat in the tub for a long time blankly, his mind feeling like a hazy fog. Mechanically, he washed himself and dried off, and drained the tub of all of its water with a sharp pull of plug. 

Aziraphale watched the water swirl down the drain in a daze. Once the water was emptied, Aziraphale slowly made his way to his wardrobe. He grabbed the warmest looking clothes he could find, shivering from his damp skin hitting the cold air. He pulled on his clothing, his hair still damp from the bath. The room was well lit now that the sun had begun to rise.

“Right,” he said, after putting his shoes on. “Let’s see what I’m dealing with.” 

With more confidence than he truly felt, Aziraphale strode over to the now cold hearth. 

“How did they take you?” he asked himself. He knelt on the floor and peered inside of the hearth. 

The flame inside of the hearth had completely died. Aziraphale couldn’t explain why, but he was happy to see it go. The uneasy feeling he had gotten from the embers last night had completely disappeared. There weren’t many clues to be found inside of the hearth, except for the large black stain of soot at the back of it. 

Aziraphale inspected the stain closely. It covered nearly the entirety of the back of the hearth, parts of it creeping over the side of the brick walls and licking the plaster of the wall beyond it.

Despite all of his efforts, he found nothing fruitful. There were no other clues that would help him find Anthony. Aziraphale clenched his fists tightly at his side. He was all out of options. He didn’t know what to do. 

Aziraphale felt his chest go tight, and the beginnings of another panic attack begin to form. He stared at the inside of the hearth with a quiet desperation. For nearly the entire year, Aziraphale would have given anything to see Anthony’s face, but he didn’t want to see it like that, only for him to be so taken away. It was just too cruel. 

“Cruel,” Aziraphale muttered aloud, a bitter feeling rising. “Always so cruel.”

He sat there for a moment, before a thought struck him like lightning. He thought back to that time so many months ago when he had first realized exactly what their enemy was capable of. 

“That’s the point,” he said aloud with dawning horror.

That was the point of taking Anthony like that while leaving Aziraphale behind, for him to suffer. 

“So that’s why,” Aziraphale said bitterly.

He looked towards the hearth again with understanding. He was left behind to suffer without Anthony. Again. 

“I’ll find you,” Aziraphale vowed. “I promise.” 

He took one last look at the hearth before turning around and striding out of the room. He bounded down the hall and into the kitchen, taking his cloak off of the hook by the fireplace and quickly putting it on. 

He marched out of the kitchen and through the manor, making his way to the foyer. He sped down the steps down to the lower level, but paused at Anthony’s hideous statue. 

The wrestling statue was just as hideous as it was the last few times he saw it, but it wasn’t that which made Aziraphale’s eyes begin to sting with tears. Anthony had loved this ugly thing. He always had. It was that thought that caused a tide of remembrance to rush through him as Aziraphale was hit with another memory.

He and Anthony were wearing smart looking clothing, long billowing shirts with a doublet fitted over them, and short, expensive looking trousers with accompanying stockings to match. Anthony’s clothing, in true fashion, was a pure black, save for the twinkling silver buttons of his doublet and jaunty red hat.

“What is it that you wanted to show me again?” Aziraphale had said, crossing his arms over his torso. His clothing was all white, save for the golden buttons on his doublet, and the golden feather on his own cream colored cap. 

“Come see,” Anthony smiled a wide grin. His long red hair bounced as he turned on his heel and led Aziraphale down busy streets. 

Aziraphale remembered the city at the time was renaissance era Florence. 

“I had a good friend of mine commission a little piece for me,” Anthony explained. He led him inside of the apartment complex, and nodded to the doorman on the way and up multiple flights of stairs.

“Must you have gotten a flat up so high?” Aziraphale wheezed, feeling winded after they climbed long flights of stairs up to the top floor.

“Of course,” Anthony said with a sharp grin, the dark lenses of his glasses shining in the dim light of the hall.

“Well then lead the way,” Aziraphale had said.

Anthony led him down the hall. The shadows grew darker as they went, and Aziraphale could sense the familiar demonic presence grow stronger as they approached the door.

“Dreadfully dark here,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“You know me Angel,” Anthony said. He waved his hand towards the door airily as it opened on its own. 

Inside was a spacious foyer with gold trimmed artwork hanging from the walls, expensive looking end tables and decorative vases, as well as a large ornate window at the side of the room with expensive dark curtains letting out all of the light. 

Despite the appalling lack of light, Aziraphale could clearly make out the centerpiece of the room, which was a ghastly looking statue of two angels wrestling. If it could even be called that.

“Oh Crowley, why?” Aziraphale asked in exasperation. 

“What, you don’t like it?” Anthony had asked, turning back towards him. 

“Of course not,” Azirapahle responded immediately. “It’s horrible.” 

“I like it,” Anthony protested. “Had it commissioned by one of my friends.”

“A real artist,” Aziraphale said sarcastically.

“You said you liked his work,” Anthony shot back, offended. 

“Whose work is this?” Aziraphale asked.

“You know, it’s Michael’s work,” Anthony said, flippantly.

“Michalangelo,” Aziraphale repeated incredulously. He whipped his head back towards the piece in question.

Now that Anthony had mentioned it, Aziraphale could see Michaelangelo’s style in the stone work. 

“How did you get him to make this?” Aziraphale asked.

“Oh we go way back,” Anthony answered with a wave of his hand. “Commissioned it myself.”

“You wanted him to make it like this?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well that’s what commission means. Of course, he did take some creative liberties,” Anthony mused. “Artists.”

“I can’t believe you,” Aziraphale said. His nose scrunched in distaste. “You drag me all the way up here to look at this foul thing.”

“Not a fan of the arts Angel?” Anthony teased.

“Oh you know how much I love Michaelangelo’s work,” Aziraphale said. “This just has you written all over it.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” Anthony asked.

“...This speaks for itself,” Aziraphale concluded.

Anthony let out a rich sounding laugh at the reply. Aziraphale could see the memory begin to fade as if a thick fog rolled through. He could still hear the delighted sound of Anthony’s laughter ringing in his ears as he came too, in front of the ugly statue once more in the present day. 

Aziraphale tried to catch his breath. His heart raced from what he had just remembered. He looked up at the statue in front of him with a new understanding. 

“I’m coming,” he said, before turning around and making his way to the front doorway.

He walked through the front door to the manor, and shut it firmly behind him. His boots made crunching noises as he tread over snow. He passed the now repaired angel statue atop the stone fountain, the water inside frozen and caked with snow. He crossed the remainder of the grounds and approached the front gate.

The sun had just risen in the sky, peeking over at the canopy of trees in the distance. The rising eastern sun shone through the gates, it’s door already swung open. 

Aziraphale spared a passing thought as to why the gate was already open, but then shook it away. He didn’t have time for such thoughts right now. The only thing that mattered was finding Anthony.

Steeling himself, Aziraphale clutched his cloak closer to him and journeyed through the eastern gate. He felt a strange sensation when he crossed through the threshold. It felt like a warm light inside of him had grown a bit stronger. Aziraphale paused mid step in surprise. The light inside of him grew and grew. He felt himself become more powerful, more full of energy. Suddenly, Aziraphale knew what to do. 

He knew where Anthony was, and he knew how to get there. Aziraphale closed his eyes and concentrated, reaching for that warm light deep inside of him. He let it grow and grow, until the warmth of his angelic power filled his entire being. He bent himself through the light, exiting the physical plane and into another. 

Aziraphale was going to find his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done. So much has happened. We're almost at the end here. Thank you guys so much for sticking with me for so long. Working hard on the next chapter. Tell me what you all think below.


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